As If You Have A Choice
by colleen5182
Summary: Two strangers have multiple chance meetings in one vibrant city. With their workaholic, anti-relationship attitudes and miscommunication working to keep them apart, can they ever really get to know one another? AH/OOC; Collab w/ the lovely Jessica0306
1. Chapter 1

**This is a collaboration with with lovely and hysterical ****Jessica0306****. Our storyboard was written on a napkin at a restaurant. **

**Thank****s**** to Project Team Beta for their Beta Skills Extraordinaire. **

**The characters belong to S. Meyer. The things we make them do are all us. Please don't copy, steal or try to pass off as your own, kthnx.**

_The Beginning of the End  
_

I stared at him in complete shock, completely fucking angry at the situation we currently found ourselves in. His actions, his words, and his inability to keep his fucking mouth shut had brought us to this point.

"Don't you dare, Edward. Don't you fucking dare try to blame this all on me. You _knew_ what you were getting yourself into with me. I never hid the type of person I was, what my priorities were, or what I expected from you and our relationship," I screamed.

I was shaking with anger, but I couldn't tell if I was more angry with him or with myself. For the moment, I chose him.

Without even thinking, I continued. "I thought you understood that. But I guess I was wrong, because you are just like everyone else. Wanting me to change, expecting me to change, see and desire what everyone else thinks I need in my life. Well, guess what? I see it. And I still don't fucking want it," I spat.

As soon as the words were out of my mouth, and as soon as I saw the look of hurt on Edward's face, I realized my monumental mistake and I realized that I had been fooling myself for a really long time. The truth was, I was lying. Lying to him, lying to myself, lying to everyone. I wanted it, I wanted him and everything he wanted to give me, but I just couldn't make myself say the words.

Just as quickly as the pain spread across Edward's face, it disappeared.

"You're lying," he said, with a devilish tone to his voice. "Fuck. I can't believe it. You're lying to me right now." He was laughing, almost maniacally, but he continued on his rant. "I know you so fucking well that sometimes even I can't believe it. And you want to know how I know you're lying, Bella? Because when you lie, your ears turn bright fucking red and right now, they are crimson."

_Traitorous ears..._

The woman in me wanted to run to him, but the stubborn fool in me couldn't let that happen.

"Think what you want, Edward, but the fact remains. I am who I am, and you thinking you can come into my life on your fucking white horse wanting to save me like some knight in shining armor doesn't change anything for me. It doesn't fill me up with all sorts of warm and fuzzy feelings. I don't need to be saved."

_Another lie. _

He stalked towards me, a look of pure determination on his face as he said, "Oh, yes you do, Bella. You desperately need to be saved from yourself and you don't even realize it. God, it's no wonder you've never had a relationship that lasted longer than 10 fucking minutes. It's not because you don't want to, although that's what you have spent your entire life convincing yourself. It's because you can't. You have made yourself so impossible to love that no man in his right mind wants to even attempt to to break the hard exterior you have built up around yourself," he said, his expression softening and showing only the love I knew he held for me.

My will was faltering. How did he do this? How did he manage to make me so angry and then make me crumble at his feet with just one look?

I was about to argue when he stopped me by placing his finger to my lips and said, "But I want to, Bella. I want to be that man for you. Why can't you just make room in your carefully planned out life to allow that? What's the harm in allowing that?"

He was standing in front of me now, his hands cupping my cheeks and his thumbs running in smooth cirlces on my skin. I could feel his hot breath on my face and the trembling of his body as he placed soft, gentle kisses on my eyelids. I felt myself melt into his touch and tears well up in my eyes as my chest constricted and a sob broke through.

The 300 pound elephant in the room was now standing on my feet. Edward was asking me to let him in, to let him love me, to make room in my life for him and the happiness he could bring to it. And as I stood there looking at him, seeing his own unshed tears glistening in his eyes, waiting to spill down his cheeks, I wanted nothing more than to give him what he wanted. My heart was screaming at me to say yes, but my head was telling me that I didn't know how to let him in. All I knew was how to walk away.

Removing myself from his grasp, I took a deep, shaky, breath.

"Edward, I can't. Please understand. I just can't give you what you want, what you need," I pleaded, offering no more of an explanation than that because, the truth was, I had no other explanation. There was nothing stopping me from throwing myself into his arms and giving him the piece of my heart that he so badly wanted, that I so badly wanted him to have. And yet, I just couldn't take that leap.

I turned around and started to head for the door, the sobs working their way through me.

"Bella," he whispered, and I could hear the sadness and despair in his voice. I stopped and made no motion to move, I just waited for him to continue. "If you leave, you're ending what we have, what we could have."

Without even turning to face him, I sighed and said, "I know, Edward."

*****

**Sooooo, after reading some amazing stories for the past year and a half, my buddy****,****Jessica0306,**** and I decided to get our butts in gear and write one. Welcome to our first fanfic! We are so excited to be doing this and have a lot of things in store for these crazy kids, so stay tuned and enjoy the ride. Oh, oh, oh....and, please review?**


	2. Chapter 1: A Well Respected man

**Here we go, folks. As previously mentioned, this is a collaboration with the lovely and hysterical Jessica0306. Thanks to Project Team Beta for their Beta Skills Extraordinaire. The characters belong to S. Meyer. The things we make them do are all us. Please don't copy, steal or try to pass off as your own, kthnx.**

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**Chapter 1 – A Well Respected Man**

_'Cause he gets up in the morning,_

_And he goes to work at nine,_

_And he comes back home at five-thirty,_

_Gets the same train every time._

_'Cause his world is built 'round punctuality,_

_It never fails._

_And he's oh, so good,_

_And he's oh, so fine,_

_And he's oh, so healthy,_

_In his body and his mind._

_He's a well respected man about town,_

_Doing the best things so conservatively._

**-The Kinks**

Most days are repeats. If I have an 8:00 AM shift, my alarm is set for 5:00 AM. But, I'm most likely lying awake staring at my overpriced chandelier by 4:30. I down a quick glass of orange juice - no pulp. I jog the Conservatory Pond area in Central Park - sometimes I bike it. It always depends on how much stress I need to sweat out. If the previous day was particularly draining, or heartbreaking, I jog. I pound the pavement until the soles of my feet feel torn up. If I need a quick burst of energy, I hop on my trusty Trek District Carbon. Every three years I treat myself to a new bike. The methodic peddling and wind on my face help prepare me for the day ahead. Every corner turned is an olfactory overload - food carts, cheap perfume, dew, dog shit. The exercise is the quickest and only way, really, for me to clear my head. It helps me focus and plan.

Rainy days are the best - very few power walkers. No tourists - they might melt, perish the thought. If I didn't know better, I would think the city's visitors never heard of rain boots or ponchos. Just as well - I do my best hypothesizing and pseudo life planning in the Park. I say pseudo because I never really carry out the plans I dream up. Not anymore, anyway. Some days, I cure cancer. Other days, I open a restaurant. On very rare occasions, I win the lottery and retire early to a private island. In reality, the park is my un-real reality. It's a sanctum amidst the chaos and hurt and loneliness - covering a whopping 6% of the urban jungle that has been home all of my 30 years.

I wouldn't live anywhere else in the world (save for my private island). You can find anything and everything you need in New York. I went to private school for my first several years of learning, but my parents stuck me in the public school system when I turned 11. They saw the other kids becoming spoiled and entitled and didn't want that for their children. I liked my public schooling much better. My friends were more genuine - there was no bullshit about them. It didn't matter what new sneaker you had or what kind of car your parents drove. All that mattered was that you could, in a word, hang. It was the best thing my parents could have ever done for me - it grounded me. Of course, I attended NYU for my undergrad and Cornell for medical school. One should always have goals and aspirations.

I have successfully shit, showered, shaved and am on my bike no later than 7:30 to start my 13-block jaunt to the hospital. This ride is trickier and less mind-clearing. I have become quite proficient at navigating the vehicle and pedestrian traffic. The constant right-of-way struggles between the taxis and walkers, car-commuters and joggers - this always keeps me on my toes. Everyone thinks everyone else owes them something, that their appointment, date, career, walk-of-shame is more important than the next guy's. It makes me chuckle every single day. I rather appreciate this sociological lesson in humanity, or lack thereof. All the hustle and bustle and shitting on your fellow man is great motivation to get you through a long day. Usually, I grab a plain bagel, or even better, a croissant on my way in. And this is all the food I get the chance to eat for the next 13 hours or so.

There are rare days when I don't have work and have had enough sleep to function with a modicum of enthusiasm. I do nothing and everything on these days. I take in the park at a snail's pace...I stroll, an actual saunter. I sit and read. It doesn't matter what - magazines, poetry, fiction, medical journals - whatever I happen to be reading that week. I enjoy the short vacation from real life. Sometimes I venture over to the zoo and I imagine the internal monologues the animals would have if they had logic and reasoning skills, which I am just cynical enough to know they do not.

I visit my mother at her bakery in Midtown. Betsy's Baked Bests - named, naturally, after her mother Elizabeth. If we're being honest, it was the easy alliteration that was most appealing to her. She claims Grandma taught her everything she knows about baking, which is laughable because, well, never mind. I won't talk ill of my mother. She could have done anything in the world to fill her time and she chose to become a baker. It makes her happy, so we stay quiet. On the days I go to the bakery, I usually end up in an apron wrapping and ringing.

"Edward, dear, what shall we pay you for your hard work on your day off, hmmm?" It's the same question every time, and every time, it is the same answer.

"Mom, please. It's my pleasure. Add my minimum wage salary to my inheritance," I say with a hidden eye-roll. And it was true, every time. I enjoy spending time with my mother, watching her do what she enjoys.

"You're so fresh, Eddie!" She places her cold palm on my cheek - her idea of a slap of discipline. "You really don't have to come here on your days off. You should be relaxing, or better yet, wooing, perhaps?" She winks. I always see myself in that wink. It's a trick she taught me at an early age; you can get away with most anything with that slight eye movement. Despite what she says, I know my help is appreciated, especially when her slowly graying hair is white with flour and her apron is hanging lopsided at her waist. Even when she has frazzled eyes, she won't ever admit to needing help. She hires college kids, but nobody she employs seems to last. She mentioned something about inexperienced kids trying to mess up the integrity of decades-old recipes.

"I'm plenty relaxed. And I date. I mean, when I can. I'm pretty busy, you know? I work crazy shifts. And, the research is never-ending. And, there is the work I do with Dad for the foundation. Oh, and the volun..."

"EDWARD! You're rambling, dear. And, I catch your drift, okay? You would like your dear old mommy to butt out. Now, I need to close up and get home to start dinner. If you won't let me pay you, at least take a box home. I know you're not eating. Not anything good, at least. Some baked deliciousness will fatten you right up. You're working too much, Edward." She manages to cut me off, insult me, and remind me what an amazing wife and mother she is all while counting out the register and never once looking up. Superwoman...mostly.

She has raised two intelligent, respectful and successful (if I do say so myself) children, all while helping her husband build one of the largest foundations for research in pediatric medicine in the United States. She opened the bakery with no help, in her need to fulfill a lifelong dream of going into business for herself. And on top of all this, she keeps the home she shares with my father (ok, she does have a housekeeper, but she insists on cooking all, or, most meals), she does volunteer work and still has time to drop her leftover pastries at the homeless shelter.

"No, thanks. I think I am ... good. Yeah, I am trying to cut out the sugar. It's like crack. I need to kick the habit." I rub my eyebrow as if I'm digging for gold. It's a nervous habit I picked up in high school when I was learning the art of getting girls to sleep with me. Truth be told, I don't want to waste my mother's hard work. I would just throw them out. This way, she can take all of the leftovers to the shelter. Esme is nothing if not selfless. I lean in and kiss her rosy cheek, wiping away the frosting smeared on her eyebrow. "I have to run, but I will call you tomorrow around lunchtime. Oh, and please have Dad call me when he gets a minute to breathe. We really need to go over some points for the fundraiser we're planning. Love you!" I grab my bike from the back and ride the few blocks to the subway station.

As I am about to make my descent into what I consider the nonpareil spot to really, truly see people for who they are, my phone rings, pulling me out of my trance.

"Yo, Edward. Whatcha up to? Are you busy? Got a sec?" All I hear is, "Yip, yap, yip, yip, yap."

"I'm on my way home...I was with mom. What's up?" I realize my mistake as soon as I make it - I made it clear that for the indeterminate future I had no plans. Which means that as soon as this conversation is over, I will.

"Ooh, she tried to get you to take leftovers home, didn't she? She ALWAYS does that! ALWAYS! As if growing up with her 'fine, baked goods' wasn't enough!" _Yip, yap, yap…_

"She tried, Alice. But, she did not, I repeat, did NOT succeed. She is going to catch on one day, ya know? It's gonna be harsh." I pause, considering my next statement carefully. My sister can spin anything in her favor. She is a master manipulator and I am known for mouth puke at the most inopportune times. It isn't a nervous habit - I am great with people and very comfortable in new situations. I speak in front of crowds of hundreds, maybe even thousands. It was a long time ago that I realized I had a curse. I was blessed in many respects...family, career, friends...so, it only makes cosmic sense that I should have a curse. Mouth puke is my curse - the universe's way of balancing me out. I was 20 when I realized this.

_It was the end of the summer and I was living it up before going back to NYU for my senior year. There was a party (there always is); this one happened to be three months long. It was at a friend of a friend's place - his parents' place - they were touring Europe for the umpteenth time. I had been flirting with this gorgeous redhead - glamazon redhead - all night. We drank, we danced, we whispered dumb affections in each other's ear. I really just wanted to fuck her. We finally made our way up to the most tasteless bedroom I have ever seen - think floor-to-ceiling mirrors, red carpet, formica furniture, opposing animal prints. I am pretty sure if the animals represented in that room came to life, it would be a survival-of-the-fittest blood bath. Clothes are flying off; body parts were being licked; grunts and moans and feelings of lust and passion were vocalized. The dick-man was about to do his touchdown dance inside the end zone when I said, breathlessly (I remember because her mouth was on top of mine and I was literally struggling for breath), "Lemme grab a condom." I reached for my jeans as she pulled my arm away._

_"It's cool. I'm clean and on the pill." She was a nice girl. I was sure her word is her bond. And, I really wanted to be inside her. A lot. But, I was having a stellar fucking summer, so, naturally the cosmos had other plans. Cue mouth puke:_

_"Tanya, really? I don't even know you! You could have slept around all summer. You could have crabs or some shit. I don't need to be dealing with that shit right now." It was the first time I was ever slapped by a woman. And, aside from my mother's loving pats on the cheek, it was the last._

"So, dear sister, was there something you needed?" Damn it all to hell! I should have said _wanted_! She won't ever admit to _wanting _something. It's too selfish. But, if she feels in her heart of hearts that she truly _needs _something, that it is advantageous to her well-being, she has no qualms telling you what you can do to help.

"You're so sweet, Edward, really." She was sugar-coating...using her sing-song voice. "Actually, there is this thing I have to go to..." She needs a date. And, when she doesn't want to actually take the time to call up a male peer, friend, fuck buddy, whatever, she calls her big brother. I should be flattered. It became clear to me that she invites me to functions that are most important to her. Maybe she needs my opinion, career advice, or just someone she trusts to hold her hand. I don't pretend to know why my sister does most of the things she does. I just kind of have to go with the flow.

"It really isn't that big of a deal. I just kind of have to show up, ya know? Cocktails, dinner, schmoozy-boozy. Hell, it'll be more intimate than the fundraisers you guys do, no biggie. You'll go?" It's more of a statement, not a request.

I stall, because I need to make an excuse and even though I am a quick thinker, I am no match for Alice. "Well, when is it? I might have to work."

"Oh, oh! No, I already called the hospital to check your schedule. Lauren is so sweet - she was a huge help. Anyhow, the party - gathering, really - is next Friday. You _were_ scheduled to work 'til 10, but I politely requested that you have off _next_ Friday and work _this_ Friday." I can hear her holding her breath, waiting for my explosion. Tick, tick, boom.

"Alice, Jesus Christ! That's TO-MOR-ROW! Which means that for my second day off in a row I have to go to fucking work because you pushed your fucking nose into my business...AGAIN! I never, ever, NEVER have two days off in a row and you just fucking shat on my good fortune!" I am harsh and loud because Alice can handle it and unfortunately, it really doesn't faze her. It seems to have fazed the passers-by around me, though. My hair is most likely a disheveled nest and my face is probably the color of a cooked lobster. I am positive I resemble one of the crazies that you try to avoid sitting next to on the subway. The type of crazy I love to study and I guess kind of gawk at. Mothers feared for their children...grrrr, children, grrrr.

"Calm the fuck down, Edward." How she makes the word "fuck" sound pleasant is beyond me. "You have next Saturday off, remember? Which means you _will_ have your two days off, just not this week. Besides, it will be fun. And there will be great connections for your fundraising, I'm sure. It's a golden opportunity. Think of what dad would say if you turned it down."

I know what my father would say. He would say, "Good for you, son! Your little sister has been pushing you around your entire life. It's about time you took a stand." I want to say that to Alice. I really want to fucking say it. Instead, I settle on, "What do I have to wear?"

"Oh, Eddie. I love you! I already picked up a suit for you. It's Dolce - your personal shopper at Saks helped me with the sizes." She pauses, it's a disappointed pause. "Eddie, when, pray tell, did you get a personal shopper at Saks?" Typical! My sister is more concerned that I didn't tell her about some stupid asshole that helps pick my clothes out than the fact that she totally railroaded me into a night of sure boredom and possible misery.

"First of all, don't call me 'Eddie.' Second of all, Jessica was the one who set me up with the personal shopper." Mentioning Jessica wasn't exactly mouth puke. It was more of a slip up on my part. Alice would be all apologetic in 3...2...1...

"Damn it, sorry, Edward! I didn't mean to dig that old wound up. Ha - she was more like a genital wart than a wound, really. I kill myself sometimes." She was laughing madly at her joke. A joke that I would have found funny if it wasn't MY life that Jessica was the genital wart on. She all but ruined me for other women, or at least relationships with other women. If nothing else, she helped me realize that I don't have the time or energy that a commitment like a woman requires.

"Ok, look, I will pick up the suit sometime this week. I have to go eat some dinner and get some sleep before my shift in the morning." I stress the last part to really dig into her and let her know how pissed I am. I doubt it worked. Then, I hear it - a familiar clamor. The unmistakable bark of a Great Dane just itching to go lift his leg on a tree, and the 55-year-old Mrs. Cope trying to get the dog to obey her. The soft, yet stern, "Heel, damn it! Stupid dog!" It was a noise one would hear if he, or she, happened to be in or near the lobby of my Fifth Avenue building at this exact time of day. "Alice, where are you?" I already know where she is.

"What? Why? Where are YOU?" She deflects, as if me realizing she is at my building now, rather than when I walk in, would make a difference on the Edward-Anger-o-Meter. "Ok, surprise! I am waiting for you at your building. I must say, this is the coziest lobby! I have your suit. Oh, Edward, before I forget - can you stop at the drug store and pick up the new Vogue and Good Housekeeping? Dear, silly me, and a box of tampons? Tampax - regular...." _Yip fucking yap._

With all she has just thrown at me, I should have many objections. However, I am intrigued. "Good Housekeeping? You are aware that this particular magazine has household cleaning tips, bargain shopping tips, recipes, yeah?"

"Shut it! I know what it is! I am trying my hand at being more...domestic when I am home. It helps me focus. Just pick it up, Edward. For crying out loud, you're such an asshole."

She's pissy at me? Fucking cherry. "I am all the way in Midtown. I get off at 77th, Alice. I am not going all the way down to 72nd and back."

"You don't have to." I should have known...master planner. "You can either go to 2nd and 79th or 1st and 76th. You think your Duane Reade is the one and only. Get out more, Edward."

"Fuck you, Alice. They know me at my drug store. And I know where everything is. I'll see you in a bit. Ask Sam to let you in and order some Thai food. The menu is in the drawer to the right of the sink in the island."

"I'm already in. I had a key made last time I stayed here. And, Thai food is gross. But, I will order it for you. Don't forget - Tampax regular!"

Sure, most days are repeats. But, on this day Alice sends me on a mission to 2nd and 79th. What should have been a simple, albeit embarrassing, excursion to a foreign Duane Reade turns out to be an actual, no-doubt-about-it, mother-fucking ordeal.

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**Hope you enjoyed this installment of As If You Have A Choice! Stay tuned for next time!!**

**We lerve reviews!! They make us update faster! **


	3. Chapter 2: Run This Town

_**Aaaaaaand we're back!  
Here is Chapter 2 of As If You Have A Choice brought to you by Bella**_

_**We should have probably mentioned earlier that I will be writing Bella's POV while my partner in crime, Jessica0306, will be giving you Edward's POV.**_

_**  
SM owns it all! We just make them do wild and crazy things!  
Enjoy**_

_*********_

_Life's a game but it's not fair  
I break the rules so I don't care  
So I keep doin' my own thing  
Walkin' tall against the rain  
Victory's within the mile  
Almost there, don't give up now  
Only thing that's on my mind  
Is who's gonna run this town tonight_

_Run This Town ~ Jay-Z, Rihanna & Kanye_

****

"Bella," I heard my assistant, Angela, call over the intercom.

"Yeah, Ang. What's up?"

"Just wanted to let you know that ESPN is about to run the spot on Emmett and announce his new contract."

_Shit, already?_ _The spot wasn't supposed to run until 5:30 PM_, I thought to myself as I glanced at the clock on my office wall. 5:32 PM. _Well, fuck. Where did my day go?_

"Um, thanks Ang," I said. I got up from my desk and ran over to the black leather couch in my office. Positioning myself on the arm of the couch, I quickly turned on the TV and flipped to ESPN, just as the announcement was about to start.

_"In other sports related news, running back, Emmett McCarty, will sign an eight-year deal with the New York Giants worth $50.5 million which also includes $17 million in combined signing and option bonuses__..."_

I couldn't help but smile as the ESPN commentator went into detail about Emmett's new contract. Emmett played football at the University of Southern California during college and had amazing talent. The boy was six foot four, 230 pounds of solid muscle and he was born to play. The first time I saw him on the field was like a breath of fresh air. He was quick, graceful, sure of himself and players knew not to fuck with him. After watching him during practice one day, I knew I needed to work with him. I knew I could make him the next big thing.

At the time, I was working for Strategic Sports Group, Inc., a large sports agency in Manhattan, and was quickly coming to realize that in this business, you needed to be a shark. It was hard enough being a female sports agent, a tiny one at that, but no professional athlete wanted his or her agent to be meek or a fucking pansy ass. No, they needed someone tough as nails and I was just the girl to get the job done, considering my tolerance level for bullshit was less than zero. I was a pure spitfire.

I approached him after practice that fateful day, all five foot two, 110 pounds of me, and tried my hardest to convince this huge oaf of a man that I could get the job done. I was basically asking him to put his professional football career in my hands and trying to convince him that I was capable of doing the best job for him. He had no reason to trust me, but after I was done with my speech and stepped off my soapbox, he just threw his head back in booming laughter, put his arm around me and said "Ok, Tink, let's talk more. I like you."

And that was that. Emmett gave me a chance, which was all I really asked for, and I fucking ran with it.

From that moment on, Emmett and I were partners. He signed on with me as his agent and our business relationship, and friendship, was off and running. It was slow going at first...really slow going. After college, Emmett was drafted by the Miami Dolphins as a second string running back. He didn't get much playing time, but when he did, he made sure to play his fucking heart out. The problem was that owners, coaches and managers all saw him the same way. They mistook him for a cocky, arrogant, know-it-all football player who thought he was better than the legends of the game, and who wanted nothing but big money and instant fame. What they neglected to see was that he didn't give a rats ass about the money, even though he fucking deserved it. All Emmett cared about was playing the game he loved and being the best he could be at it. He was a team player through and through. He never looked out for just himself, although at times he should have. He looked out for, and took care of, the other players as well. If they hurt, he hurt. If they played badly, he felt badly for them. He was the epitome of class, honor and professionalism and he deserved better than what he was getting.

Unfortunately, at the same time, I was becoming increasingly unhappy at Strategic. Sports were my life and I loved my job, but Strategic just wasn't doing it for me anymore. I constantly felt like they didn't want me to further myself and advance within the company, and they sure as shit didn't take me seriously most of the time. To them, I was just a little girl playing with the big boys in a place where they felt I had no business being. It pissed me off and only made me want to tie all of their nut sacks together in a giant fucking knot and sing Kumbaya around a campfire. But, I digress. I knew I needed to make a move. My career was very important to me and, at the time, I was stuck. Not moving forward...not moving at all. I'd be damned if I was going to sit around and watch it all go to shit. A change needed to be made, and it needed to be made fast.

If Strategic wasn't going to let me advance, then I was going to advance myself.

I talked to my friend, Rosalie Hale, the only other female sports agent at the firm, and Emmett, and after much discussion, a plan was put into action.

Rosalie and I had each called our respective parents that night to explain our situation and what we perceived to be the best course of action. The plan was simple...well, at least to us it was. Rosalie and I wanted to open up our own sports agency and Emmett promised to follow me wherever I went. We knew it would be hard, but we also knew we could make it work. We were smart, savvy, strong-willed, and we knew our stuff better than some of the men in the business...and I'm sure the fact that we both had amazing racks didn't hurt, either. The part of the plan that wasn't so simple, however, was the money.

Obviously, starting a company from the ground up wasn't cheap and Rose and I were young so we didn't have the means, capital or credit to do so. That's where our parents came in. I knew my parents would be supportive, Renee and Charlie had always stood by my side, but I also knew that they didn't have much in the way of money to contribute to the cause. However, I wanted to let them know of the significant changes being made in my life and I wanted their approval. Of course, they were happy for me and Rose, and proud of me for being a go-getter and taking the initiative to start my own company, but what shocked the hell out of me was when they told me they had set up a savings account for me when I was born and had been putting money into it since then, hoping they would have enough in there to pay for my wedding one day. They gave me the option of taking the money now or keeping it for my "wedding" and, since I had no intentions of getting married at any point in the distant future, I gratefully accepted their offer to take the money.

With the money given to me by my parents, the amount of money Rose's parents contributed, and the loan we were able to take out from the bank, BelRo Sports Agency Inc. was born and instantly successful.

Thinking about my parents brought a whole new smile to my face.

My father, or Charlie as I called him everywhere but to his face, was a police officer in the small town of Ringwood, New Jersey. He was, by far, the sweetest man alive and I thank him whole-heartedly for my love of sports. I was a daddy's girl from the start and ever since I could remember, I would sit down on the couch with Charlie at nights and on weekends and watch the games with him. It didn't matter what the sport was, I loved and enjoyed them all just as much as I loved and enjoyed the time it allowed me to spend with him. Charlie was my rock and, as far as I was concerned, the only man I would ever permanently need or want in my life. He was always good for a hug and he knew how to comfort his little girl when she needed it.

Renee, my mother, God bless her soul, was Charlie's polar opposite. They didn't make any fucking sense but they fit together like two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. If Charlie said 'up', Renee said 'down'. If Charlie went left, Renee went right. I'm not sure they had anything in common except for the fact that they were crazy in love and devoted to one another completely. She was the peanut butter to his jelly, the ying to his yang and every time she walked into a room, his face lit up like he was plugged into the wall socket and was emitting radioactive light.

It was impossible not to love Renee. She was a free-spirit. Her energy was magnetic. She never had a bad thing to say about anyone, always seeing the good in others, and she made friends wherever she went. She was constantly pulling my father out of his shell, adjusting his comfort level, and he loved her for it. Their love was unshakeable, unbreakable and constantly shocking the shit out of me. So much so that when they announced four years ago over breakfast that Renee was pregnant, I choked on my coffee and literally spit in poor Charlie's face. As they told me the news of the new unexpected bundle of joy we were going to be welcoming into the family, I almost threw up at the thought that I was going to have a brother or a sister twenty-four fucking years younger than me. But, it was just another testament to how crazy in love with one another they were and, apparently, how...um...active, I guess, their sex life still was. I suppose we all had Renee's profession as a sex therapist to thank for that one. I shuddered at the thought.

Seven and a half months later, Renee gave birth to a beautiful baby girl they named Jane. The first time I held her, or saw her even, she became the light of my life. The age difference didn't matter anymore. All that mattered to me, to any of us, was this baby girl who captured all of our hearts the moment she entered the world. Being a big sister to someone so precious meant so much to me and I vowed to look after her and protect her with all of my might.

One would think growing up surrounded by Renee and Charlie's love would make me yearn for the same type of thing in my life but that wasn't the case. Watching them revel in each other and be blissfully happy knowing they had found the other half to their whole was more than enough for me. I had always been focused on my studies, my friends and my career too much to worry about anything else. Don't get me wrong, I wasn't innocent by any stretch of the imagination. No, no, far from it, in fact. I had plenty of boyfriends in high school and college...none that really held my interest for too long, however, and I was the master of casual sex. But finding the all consuming love my parents had was never at the top of my priority list. They knew I was content with leading the life I was living, but Renee, whose one flaw was that she didn't know how or when to mind her own fucking business, was constantly trying to get me to open my eyes to what she thought I was missing out on. What she didn't understand, though, was that my eyes were wide fucking open.

I didn't see things the way Renee did and Charlie was always trying to get her to ease up on me. I was perfectly happy pouring all of my energy into my work and my business and I had no problem providing myself with any amount of self-love my trusty vibrator was willing to give me. In my mind, the vibrator was better than any sort of relationship I could have had with a man anyway. It got the job done, didn't pressure me for more of a commitment, didn't want to cuddle after sex, didn't ask about my work, and didn't need me to talk about my feelings. _God, I sound like such a dude right now._ Whatever. I just didn't think there was anything wrong with the way I chose to live my life. I wasn't lonely. I wasn't afraid of becoming a spinster and I fucking hated cats so I didn't see myself winding up as a cat lady in the distant future. I was sure that, one day, Renee would accept the fact that my life would be different from hers, although no less complete in my book. Plus, if I really felt the need to actually fuck a member of the opposite sex, I would just turn to James.

James. The guy was an absolute ass-hat, to be honest with you. I had worked with him at Strategic and, while he never made me feel like I had no place in working in a man's business, he had an arrogance about him that irked the shit out of me. The guy thought he was God's gift to everything. Every athlete and every woman he met he was sure he was the answer to all of their prayers and he had a way of convincing you that he was. I never bought into his line of crap, but one night when a few of my co-workers and I went to grab some drinks after work, James and I got hammered and wound up fucking in the bathroom at the bar. It was dirty...and by dirty I mean unclean, because I don't care what anyone tells you, sex in a bathroom stall in a hole in the wall bar in New York City is not hot but it sure does scratch the fucking itch. James was an okay lay, had a decent sized cock and 70 to 75 percent of the time got me off. The sex wasn't mind-blowing or anything but when I felt the need to be fucked and not just rely on my vibrator, I went to him. We were fuck buddies, nothing more, nothing less. Our relationship was purely 'Wham, bam, thank you ma'am, see ya the next time around' and both of us were more than okay with that. He never asked about my work and I never asked about his because, honestly, I didn't fucking care. It was the perfect arrangement.

I was brought out of my musings by a knock on my door, followed by Rosalie coming into my office.

Rosalie was what some, and by some, I meant most, people described as being flawlessly beautiful. She was tall, had piercing violet eyes, blonde hair, a killer body and legs that went on for days. She looked like a supermodel, but she didn't need the airbrushing.

"Nice that you waited for me to tell you to come in," I said, laughing slightly.

"Whatever, hooker," she greeted as she walked over to the couch and sat down next to me. "I'm assuming you watched the ESPN announcement on Emmett?"

"Of course I did, Rose," I stated as I flipped off the television. "Emmett played his heart out for years to get a deal that lucrative. You know there was no way I was going to miss it." I didn't look at or make eye contact with Rose as I said this, knowing that I almost missed the announcement because I was too focused on putting the final touches on a pitch for a potential new client and wasn't paying attention to the time.

"I'm calling it a night," she said as she ran her fingers through her perfectly styled golden locks. "Do you want to go grab a drink or something? I could use a stiff one after the day I've had." I turned my body to face her as my lips lifted in to a sarcastic smile. By "stiff one" I wasn't sure if she meant drink or dick. Honestly, it could go either way.

"Can't, Rose," I mumbled as I got up from the couch, walked back over to my desk and sat down in my chair. "I have a ton of work to finish up here on Alice Cullen and then I need to run down to Duane Reade to pick up some things," I said as I shuffled some papers on my desk and marked an appointment on my calendar.

I felt the heat of Rose's intense glare on me. "Bella," she said, casting daggers my way as she got up from the couch and walked over to stand in front of my desk. Placing her hands on top of my desk and leaning forward, she asked, "What time did you wake up this morning?" _Ugh, here we fucking go again._

"4:30 AM," I sighed, exasperated. "Why Rose?"

"And why were you up so early?" she questioned, the tone of her voice showing just how aggravated she was with me.

"To go for a run in the park, Rose. You know this," I said, sounding just as aggravated as she had.

"And what time were you here this morning?" she demanded. We had the same fucking god-damned conversation once a week. I should just fucking record it one time and replay it when she started in on me again so we could save ourselves the time and the breath.

"5:45 AM, Rose." I folded my arms in front of me and stared at her, waiting for her to blow up at me. _By my calculations it would happen in five...four...three...two...one..._

"Oh, fuck me, Bella. I bet you don't even know what time it is now, do you? It's 6:30 PM. 6:30, Bella. Which means you've willingly been here for almost 13 hours. Jesus, Bella, that's not even healthy. Have you even eaten today?"

_Now that she mentioned it, I don't think I ate lunch...wait, did I eat dinner last night? What was last night? What day was today for that matter? Shit, where was my Blackberry so I could pull up my calendar? Maybe I should look into buying those panties that had the days of the week printed on them..._

She removed one hand from my desk and pointed a finger in my face. "You need to get out of here, relax, have fun, go on a fucking date for shit's sake."

"I date, Rose," I said, sounding a little too wounded at her words for my liking.

"Oh yea?" she spat. "When was the last date you had?"

"August eighteenth," I mumbled as she stared at me, disbelievingly. I looked away from her as I quietly added, "2007."

"Bella" she gasped, as she collapsed into the chair behind her.

"Oh, close your mouth, ya tramp. Just because I haven't been on a date in a while doesn't mean I haven't gotten laid recently," I argued. I could feel my face heating from anger and embarrassment and I wanted nothing more than to put an end to this conversation.

"Your vibrator and James don't count, Bella. Trust me, I love my rabbit just as much as the next girl but I'm convinced that if the next guy you fuck doesn't run on batteries, or have a nub attached to his cock that simultaneously rubs your clit while he pounds into you, you aren't going to know what to do with him. And James doesn't count. That boy is a sleaze and a shitty lay, you've said so yourself."

"You really are a foul individual, you know that Rosalie?" I said, as I got up from my desk chair and walked over to the tiny refrigerator I kept in my office to grab two bottles of Fiji water.

"Oh please, Bella, I'm just trying to point out to you that it's the same fucking thing every day," she said as she grabbed the bottle of water I handed her. I walked back over to my desk and sat down as she continued. "You get up, you work out, you come to the office and you drown yourself in work to the point where you have no fucking clue as to the time or the day. You stay here until all hours of the night and then you go home to your large, lavish, empty apartment, order shitty Thai food, go to bed and then wake up the next morning to start the same pitiful routine all over again."

_Lather, rinse, repeat..._

I opened the bottle of water and took a sip. "Wow, Rose. Tell me how you really feel and don't hold back. I don't want you keeping all of this stuff bottled up. It's bad for your chi and all," I snapped, as I felt myself getting increasingly angry at her words. _What the fuck did she know?_

Realizing she had crossed a line, she sighed and slumped her shoulders. "Look, I'm sorry, Bella. I'm just worried about you. You have yourself so tightly wound up in your work and this company that you are neglecting other important aspects of your life." I could tell she was being sincere by the look in her eyes and she was genuinely concerned about me, however, there was no reason for her to be.

"I'm not neglecting anything, Rose. I love what I do and I don't feel like I need a man in my life to make me complete," I said sternly, trying with all my might to make her finally understand what I was saying. "Besides, last time I checked, there was nothing wrong with working hard to ensure that our business was successful."

"Uh, take a look at your bank account, Bella," she argued, as she rolled her eyes at me. "Here's a newsflash for you. We. Are. Successful. We have some of the biggest names in sports signed on with us and more and more signing on everyday. But, you're right," she said, admitting defeat. Although I knew this was more of a 'you've won the battle but not the war' type of situation. "Your personal life and how you live it is your business and I'll try not to bring it up again."

"Uh-huh. Until next week, right?" I chuckled.

"Look," she said as she got up from her chair and walked around my desk towards me. "I can't help that I worry about my best friend, ok? And I'm sorry I snapped. Let me make it up to you. What do you say we head over to Barneys and try on some new Louboutin's?" She asked as she gently started to play with my hair, knowing how it relaxed me. "Maybe even buy a pair to go with that new, gorgeous Badgley Mischka dress you bought for the cocktail party next Friday?" _Shit. She was using my very own kryptonite against me. She knew I could never turn down a shopping trip for new Christian Louboutin shoes. Use the force, Swan. Don't give in to her now._

"I honestly can't, Rose," I sighed. "Now that you've mentioned it, I'm exhausted and fucking starving and I still need to run to the pharmacy. But how about tomorrow? Can we go shoe shopping tomorrow?" _Please, please please..._

_"Sure, Bella," she chuckled as she patted the top of my head and made her way to the door. I grabbed my purse from my desk drawer and got up so I could leave with her._

"Oh hey, do you think you can pick some things up for me at the pharmacy?" she asked, as I turned off the lights to my office. I sighed, slightly annoyed about the fact that this 'quick' trip to the pharmacy was turning into a huge ordeal.

At the time, I had no way of knowing that the quick trip - turned huge ordeal - was about to spin my world off of its carefully structured axis.

Hope you liked it! Reviews make us update quicker! 


	4. Chapter 3: No You Girls

**This is a collaboration with the lovely and hysterical Jessica0306. Our storyboard was written on a napkin at a restaurant. Thanks to our beta, Niki (HEARocks), for agreeing to polish this thing up for us and make it prettified. Also, thanks to Project Team Beta for all of their help. The characters belong to S. Meyer. The things we make them do are all us. Please don't copy, steal or try to pass off as your own, kthnx.**

_You girls never know _

_Oh no, you girls'll never know _

_No you girls never know _

_How you make a boy feel _

_Sometimes I say stupid things I think _

_Well, I mean I _

_Sometimes I think the stupidest things _

_Because I never wonder _

_Oh how the girl feels _

_Oh how the girl feels _

_No you boys never care _

_Oh no you boys'll never care _

_No you boys never care _

_How the girl feels _

"**No You Girls" – Franz Ferdinand**

**EPOV**

I wasn't going to let myself get involved with anyone. As a matter of fact, I was steering clear of the needy female variety altogether. I slept with women; a man has needs. I wasn't a playboy by any stretch of the imagination, but I had fun. And I was always a gentleman: a soft kiss on the forehead before I left her bed, a (usually) sincere, "You were amazing" before I politely kicked her out of mine. My life was easy-breezy in that department - no drama, no extra stress. It was a perfect balance of work and play with no extras in between.

But, this girl was like a breath of fresh air. Fun, flirty, non-committal. We got along well and always had a great time together. We'd walk the city streets, singing at the top of our lungs. We made out on park benches. We ate boiled hot dogs from dirty street vendors. We fucked everywhere. Her ass had been pressed up against brick buildings, elevator walls, bathroom stall doors - you name it, we desecrated it. I felt like a sixteen year old with responsibilities and a 401K. We carried on like this for three months or so. She met my friends and I met hers. We'd see movies and concerts and neither one of us said words like "exclusive," "significant other," or "relationship."

Eventually, we settled into a routine. We would meet up in the park on my days off. We'd last about ten minutes until we made our way back to my place to have sex. Then, we'd fall asleep. Or, sometimes, I would cook for her. I loved cooking. I loved trying new recipes. The best kinds weren't the ones I found in cookbooks, but the ones I created myself. She apparently didn't feel this way, as she hardly ever ate. I knew not to take it personally. She had a dislike of food in general. She called it evil. I called it an eating disorder. I would take her to family dinners, anyway. My family was always pleasant and accepting of her to the outside observer, but I knew they were anything but after we left. She would sneak me into work events. I would try to steal her away into a corner. I even mingled, sometimes. We were becoming...something.

After months in this groove, I started working more – more so than I already did - all hours of the day and night. I know now that it was my defense mechanism - a way to free myself from falling further into a commitment. I didn't feel too horribly about it because she was a work-a-holic, too. That was actually how I met her. The Cullen Foundation was having a fundraiser in the park (my idea, naturally), and she was the bright-eyed, bushy-tailed junior event coordinator for Simply Events, the planners we had used for as long as I could remember.

_Edward, do you have a moment? I'd like you to meet Simply's newest coordinator." I was visiting my father Carlisle to go over sponsorship for this particular party. I ended up in the hallway discussing flower arrangements with my mother (don't judge). I excused myself, because she raised me the right way, and I entered my father's office. I really wasn't expecting her, my little breath of fresh air. _

_"Edward, this is Jessica Stanley. She's going to be working on our 'Night in the Park for Pediatrics.' " He turned to me and to this day, I am positive he winked, just like a school-aged friend would wink when he knew I was going to get lucky. It was encouraging - and frightening. "Jessica, this is my son, Edward. He can help you with any questions you may have. Now, if you'll excuse me, I believe my wife is tapping her foot because she wants lunch." He left the room and it felt like minutes passed before I spoke. I wanted to take this girl in, all of her. Her straight, dirty blond hair swept low to her ass framing her baby face. Her cleavage smiled at me from her white button-down. And she smelled like candy._

_"Jessica, it's a pleasure to meet you." I shook her hand as I would anyone else I would be working with - softly, with a slight thumb rub over her knuckles. _

_"The pleasure is all mine! Your father has told me so much about you and your work. This is a great thing you're doing. And I am so excited to be working on this event. We're going to make it incredible - a night nobody will forget." She was enthusiastic and I appreciated that. Too many people were jaded by their jobs, going through the motions just to get it done and maintain the status quo. The status quo was not good enough for the Cullen Foundation. Unfortunately, Jessica was young enough and new enough to the game that she probably had plenty of time to become disinterested and disillusioned with her job._

_"I am counting on it, Jessica. These people deserve nothing but the best, especially with the price they're paying for dinner." I winked, just like my mother taught me. Jessica's gray eyes perked up immediately - even faster, maybe. "So, when are you available to go over the details?" My game face was definitely on. _

_"Tonight." No hesitation, no question, not a hint of shame - just the way I liked it. "Maybe we can meet up for dinner - I should be able to meet you at eight."_

_"Tonight it is, then, Jessica. Eight p.m. - Le Cirque. You know it?" She had to know it. Everyone knew it. Her face dropped slightly. "My treat." And, it was glowing again._

_"I will see you tonight, Dr. Cullen." She turned, her tailored black slacks showing off her pert ass. _

_"Jessica, please, call me Edward." I smiled slightly and I could feel her face animate even though she wasn't facing me. She never bothered to turn around, which told me that she was feeling as confident as I was._

I remember Jessica showed up fashionably late that night, looking a vision in a red dress that hugged every inch of her body, from her chest to her knees splendidly.We spent that night dining on foie gras, escargot and lobster. We drank copious amounts of Chateau Petrus Pomeral and discussed everything under the stars except the fundraiser. We talked about our childhoods, our schooling, our favorite movies and television shows. Jessica was really into reality TV and had tried out for a few shows. That should have been a red flag, but at the time, I thought it was adventurous.

That was also the first night we fucked - a night to remember indeed. It was greedy and sloppy and lasted all night long. It was that first night that led to the next eleven months, though we never quite made it to a year.

As we were well into our relationship, if you could call it that, Jessica went to a two-day workshop and I wanted to do something nice for her when she returned. I had been, for lack of a better word, avoiding her. I blamed work; I blamed research; I blamed the Cullen Foundation. In truth, I just wasn't making the time for her like I used to. I enjoyed her company. She was fun and attentive and even helpful sometimes. I wasn't sure why I had been neglecting what had slowly, but surely, and against my better judgment, become an "us." So, I made my way over to her studio apartment that Thursday night with fresh flowers, food, wine and chocolate. I had been there countless times. She had given me a key pretty early on - a key I rarely used. I felt bad having it because I hadn't given her a key to my place, nor had I ever planned to. I didn't even keep it on my keychain. Jessica hadn't done anything wrong, and didn't deserve my emotional, and even physical distance. The guilt I felt over the way I treated her was all the more reason for me to make an effort.

I arrived at her building at 5:02 p.m. to start preparing dinner. She was due back around 6:30. As I made my way up the stairs, I was feeling good about where we were. We were good together. She wasn't jealous, never asked questions. She kept me entertained. I was actually excited to see her for the first time in a long time.

When I opened the door and found she had come home early, I would have thought it was because she was excited to see me, too. I would have been wrong. She hadn't come home empty handed- she'd brought a goody-bag. An over-stuffed bear of a goody-bag who was taking up her entire bed as her naked body bounced up and down on him. I set the bags down on the table, along with her key, loud enough for them to hear me. She stopped bouncing and turned around. Paul Bunyan looked a little shocked as he flicked her of his dick with his pinky.

"A boyfriend? Really, Jess? That's fucked up," the bear inquired. He seemed genuinely surprised and I almost felt bad for him. But, then, I didn't. Truth is, he'd indirectly liberated me, something I couldn't bring myself to do, or maybe hadn't realized I wanted. I should have been thanking him. How could I have known I wanted things to be over with Jessica when it wasn't until after our relationship was over that I realized we were even _in_ a relationship?

"Edward, shit. I am so sorry. Really. It's...it's nothing," she paused, clearly nervous. "You're never around anymore, Edward!" She was justifying...and I couldn't blame her. We all had our defenses. It didn't matter, though. She made my mind up for me. I smiled at her - the same smile I used the first time I met her.

"Jessica, please, call me Dr. Cullen."

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Nine months ago, my breath of fresh air went stale. Nine months, and some odd days ago, was the last time I'd been inside a woman. After Jessica, I just didn't have the energy. I needed the easy-breezy back. But, as I've said, a man has needs. So, while stopping off to buy my little sister tampons, I found myself staring at an end-cap filled with condoms and various other pleasure items. I was in deep thought, more so than one should be while looking at condoms, especially since I looked like I had just crawled out of a gutter. After working all day and night, then waking up and helping out at the bakery, I looked worn out and rough. This morning, I threw on my Rock & Republics and black tee-shirt, which was now covered in flour and pastry goo, because I really wasn't planning on the impromptu shopping trip. Not wanting anyone to get the wrong idea about me, I grabbed a bottle of K-Y, quickly throwing it into my basket. No matter what anyone says, K-Y always comes in handy, no pun intended. I walked to the next aisle where the magazines were. I figured flipping through magazines was a lot better than being caught ogling condoms.

Navigating the magazine rack was like navigating a foreign country blindfolded. So many women's interest magazines...so much man hate. I finally found Vogue - that was easy - it's as thick as War and Peace. Good Housekeeping was trickier, but I was pleasantly surprised once I found it....there was a recipe for risotto inside. Christ - maybe I did need some sort of release, preferably inside a woman's mouth. I took stock of my basket: tampons, two women's magazines, a six-pack of Red Bull and K-Y. If I didn't know me, I'd be worried.

I decided enough was enough and I was going to get laid. I almost felt a twinge of guilt. It was so easy for a man to say that. But, if I were a woman, hell, I'd be hung out in Time's Square and branded a slut-tramp-floozy-whore. Maybe I would donate to a women's lib movement later. I needed this, though. I just needed to have some fun again. My mother was right - I was running myself into the ground and not taking time for myself.

I walked back to the end-cap in the back of the store and reached out for the black Magnum box. Before I saw the hand, I felt slender fingers - unmistakably female - reach for the same box, the last box. I looked up and was met with beguiling doe eyes...big and chocolate and inviting and..._what the fuck was that?!_ She looked me directly in my eyes, but then she lowered hers down...down...down. She was quite literally sizing me up. Her brows furrowed for a moment and she raised an eyebrow. Her eyes never left the dick-man as she let out a snicker. She almost fucking snorted. Her nostrils flared slightly and I thought it was the sexiest thing I had ever seen.

"Really? I don't think you're going to need these." She grabbed the box from my hand. _Hold the fuck up._ She was questioning my dick size - this perfect stranger (and I do mean perfect), presumed to know what kind of heat I was packing? I was modest to a fault, but I _knew _I had a big dick. I've always known it. It has never let me down.

"Excuse me?" It was all I could squeak out because this was still a woman and I am a gentleman. Plus, I try not to make a scene if I can help it. "I don't think you have any idea as to what I may or may not need." She batted her eyelashes at me. I don't think it was intentional, but it drove me crazy. I wasn't sure if it was the good kind of crazy or the bad kind.

"Look, I meant no offense. It's just...here," she grabbed the baby blue box...regular fit, "...take these. They're lubricated, too." She shoved the box in my direction. It bothered me that she was so matter-of-fact - like having this conversation with a total stranger was very normal. Her unwavering voice, though, was a major turn on.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what your lack of social skills deal is, but I presume it has something to do with the fact that whoever you're fucking isn't man enough to buy his own protection so you think you have a right to say whatever you want to people. But, the fact of the matter is that you don't have to feel sorry for yourself because you'll never get the chance to experience just how much I _do_ need the Magnums, honey." It wasn't a slip-up or due to my curse...it was exactly what I wanted to say. I wanted to cut this she-devil down a few notches. But she didn't falter. Her amazing legs never wobbled on her sexy-as-fuck heels. Her eyes never wavered from mine - they actually burned into me. Her hands were still - no trembles.

"Honey? Did you really just call me fucking 'honey'? Who in the fuck do you think you are talking to me like that?" Her voice didn't waver, still. She was a good speaker and she kept at it, but I was too busy looking in her shopping basket. Tampax Regular - just like Alice. I got a chill down my spine and shook it off...fucking gross. Some toothpaste...mints...some sort of body wash. Then I saw it...it's a perfectly normal thing to buy. I shouldn't have thought twice about it. But, it was kind of enjoyable, in a very twisted way, to know this beautiful woman had...imperfections. And here it comes....mouth puke.

I looked around to make sure we weren't in anyone's earshot when it came up. I leaned in a little bit closer to use discretion, but I also wanted to smell her. And she smelled unbelievable. It was a mix of her natural, sweet scent and some flowery scent and it was heaven. I wanted to bottle it up. But even her smell wasn't enough to stop me from making an ass of myself.

"You know, you might want to see a doctor about that." I motioned my head in the direction of her basket and her eyes widened in recognition as she took in her Preparation H sitting in plain sight. Ah, there it was...her bottom lip fell and there was an audible huff. Her lips puffed out a bit and I wanted to take the lower one in between my teeth. "I just mean, if they're really inflamed, you might want something prescription strength. It's nothing to be ashamed of." And I meant it. Nobody is perfect. It wasn't a big deal. Something about the way this woman straightened her back, puffed out her chest and inhaled deeply through her nose made me think she thought it might be a very big fucking deal.

"You are an unbelievable asshole with no boundaries, do you know that?! Do you know how entirely inappropriate you are?" Her cheeks were reddening and I wanted to look away because I found it enticing and that scared me because she was obviously a lunatic. At that moment, nothing would make me look away from that hell-beast, though.

"Me? You decided you knew what size dick a complete stranger had. I think that is a bit off-taste, don't you?" I was calmer now, because this beauty had faults and a temper that I would have loved to punish her for if I didn't find her attitude so repugnant. She ignored me, though - no surprise there.

"It's for wrinkle prevention. Not that you would know anything about that." Her voice was getting louder and I loved that. She was coming undone. "Look at you with your bed-head and under-eye circles. Do you even fucking shower? Do you have a hygiene regimen? Do you? In all my life, never has anyone talked to me like you have." Her breathing got heavier as she got angrier and I had to force myself to look away from her rising chest.

"I highly doubt that, sweetheart." Ok, that was kind of mouth puke. I didn't mean to insult her again. I kind of just wanted this whole conversation to be done and forgotten.

"Fucking, Christ! You are the most insolent person I have ever encountered. And you...I mean...look at what _you_ have in your basket!" She picked up the tampons and K-Y. I pursed my lips and squinted my eyes at the items, as if nobody could see them if I did that. "Planning a thrilling night out, are we?"

The manager picked that moment to scurry over to us and save me, his wrinkled face filled with concern. Maybe he could use some Preparation H, too.

"Excuse me, is everything alright here? Is there a problem?" He was nervous. Apparently this Duane Reade didn't see as much action as the one on 72nd.

"Yes, everything is fine. The lady and I," I said, glaring at her when I said the word "lady" hoping she would realize I used the term loosely. "...we were just discussing something _large_. And wrinkles. Apparently she has been aging prematurely...tragic, really." I broke out into a smile fit for the Joker.

"This gentleman here," she said, glaring back...eye for an eye, "...was just saying that he needed some soap to take the layer of trash and filth off his skin. And, a box of matches for his clothes." She cocked her head to the side and her eyes sparkled as a shit-eating grin livened her face. "He also wanted to know if you have anymore Magnums in the back. He is studying to be a real man."

That unfortunate man got caught in the war zone with no battle gear. "I, uh, yes, I am sure we do. I'll be right back." His eyes were weary as he left us to check the stockroom.

My adversary smoothed her long, mahogany hair. I wanted to touch it in a non-creepy way. It was so shiny and bouncy. Then, she opened her mouth again and I just kind of wanted her to shut up. "You're lucky I am in a good mood, asshole. Your sorry ass would be in a heap of fucking trouble." She pointed her finger to assert her warning.

"_This_ is you in a good mood?" I actually didn't doubt it. Power-bitches like her were a dime a dozen in this city. Blackberries attached to them at the vag...shoes that looked so goddamn uncomfortable, not to mention bad for the feet...and huge chips on their shoulders. Regrettably, she didn't get the chance to answer.

"Here you go, sir. One box of...just, here." Mr. Wrinkles threw the box into my basket and scurried away as quickly as he had appeared minutes ago.

"Don't say I never did anything for you." She scowled and then she winked...she fucking _winked_ at me. Then, she turned and walked away. I admit, I did love watching her walk away. Her hips swayed and she knew it. She knew exactly what to do and how to do it.

My head was spinning. This fucking woman could have been the death of me. I wouldn't have minded her mouth being the place where I found my release - at least it would shut her up. _Fuck, Cullen. You don't think like this. This isn't you. _Maybe not, but that is what she did to me...she infuriated me and made my dick tingle...just a little.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

"What the fuck took you so long? Your food is cold." Alice was a cheerful welcoming committee.

I finally made it home around eight p.m. I had stood in front of the condoms, the war zone, for longer than I care to admit. I thought about what had just happened and why I acted so out of character. I wasn't a rude person and, aside from my unfortunate timing with words, I was a pretty keep-it-together kind of guy. That impossible woman unraveled every bit of me. She was venomous and I felt nothing but contempt towards her. I had an aversion to everything about her: her smugness, her presumptuousness, her wink, her whole demeanor. So, why couldn't I stop thinking about her? Now, I had to deal with this little pain-in-the-ass.

"Alice, really. It's been a fucked up night. Here's your shit." I threw her plastic bag in front of her on a chair. I couldn't be bothered with niceties. I really just wanted sleep. "Now, if you don't mind, please leave." I placed my own bag on the console table in the entryway.

"Whoa. Excuuuuse me for living. What crawled up your ass?" She had the argumentative vocabulary of a thirteen year old. Lovely.

"You did, dear sister. You have me traipsing all over the fucking Upper East Side picking up your shit. Instead of sitting here twiddling your thumbs waiting for me, you could have gone out and got your own girly crap. But, no fucking way. Why would Alice do anything for herself?" I was fucking up left and right. Today would go down in history as 'Edward was a total asshat' day. To make matters worse, little puddles of tears formed in the bottom of my sister's eyes. _Don't fucking cry, Alice. Please, don't fucking cry._

"Sorry, Edward. I..I...I didn't mean to bother you. I just...I was really excited about this opportunity I have and you were already out and I was already here. I wasn't thinking. I'll go. I hung your suit up in the closet." She was about to tell me I didn't have to go to the event next week, but she stopped herself. Good girl...she knew this would blow over and I would be fine after some sleep.

"Alice, I'm the one who should apologize. You didn't do anything to deserve my fury. There was this incorrigible woman at the drug store. If she was a dude, I would have hit her...hard. But, that's neither here nor there. Come here." I opened my arms to her and she fell into a hug. She was the tiniest, feistiest woman I knew. It was too easy, so I gave her a noogie. I compared her short, jet-black hair to my unruly, reddish hair and laughed at the pair we made.

"STOP! Jeez!" She huffed, pulling away and fluffing her hair. "So....there was a girl?"

"Don't. Even. Go there. Not worth mentioning. Now, really, I have to sleep. I will call you this weekend to make arrangements for this party of yours." I grabbed her bag-o-goodies and handed it to her, practically pushing her out the door.

"Ok, great. I left the invite on your desk in the office. I really appreciate you taking me. I'll see you later." She scrunched her nose and made the goofy face she has been making at me since she was born. I walked her to the door as she inspected the contents of her bag - _FUCK!_

"Edward...why did you buy me condoms and hemorrhoid cream?"

************************

**Sooooo, after reading some amazing stories for the past year and a half, my buddy Jessica0306 and I decided to get our butts in gear and write one. Welcome to our first fanfic! We are so excited to be doing this and have a lot of things in store for these crazy kids, so stay tuned and enjoy the ride. Oh, oh, oh....and, please to review?**

**By now, you have probably heard about The Fandom Gives Back, but we would just like to remind you about it: Ninapolitan, Lolashoes & tby789 organized a site where we the people of the Twilight Fandom can help raise money for Alex's Lemonade Stand Foundation, which benefits the fight against childhood cancer. You can donate, spread the word, and/or bid on the auctions coming up. The info is in my profile, so please check it out. **


	5. Chapter 4: Maneater

**This is a collaboration with the lovely and hysterical Jessica0306. Our storyboard was written on a napkin at a restaurant. Thanks to our beta, Niki (HEARocks), for agreeing to polish this thing up for us and make it prettified. Also, thanks to Project Team Beta ****and my ppw ****for all of their help. The characters belong to S. Meyer. The things we make them do are all us. Please don't copy, steal or try to pass off as your own, kthnx.**

*~*~*~*

_And when she walks, she walks with passion_

_When she talks, she talks like she can handle it  
When she asks for something, boy, she means it  
Even if you never ever seen it  
Everybody get your necks to crack around  
All you crazy people come on jump around  
You doing anything to keep her by your side  
Because she said she love you, love you long time!_

_Maneater ~ Nelly Furtado_

_*~*~*~*_

BPOV

_Nelsons...Hemrrohl...Life-Flo....ah, Preparation H. There you are my sweet lovely._

I threw the cream into my basket and made my way out of the aisle. Rose thought I was completely insane, but it was a fact that hemorrhoid cream helped to prevent under-eye wrinkles, and I was just OCD enough about my skin to believe it. I had found that particular butt cream worked better than any of those gimmick wrinkle removers and I would do anything and everything to keep my face looking young and fresh. I was too cute and adorable to wind up looking like Joan Rivers.

I was just about finished getting the stuff I needed, and was about to go shopping for what Rosalie had asked for when I passed the condom aisle. A small bubble of laughter erupted from within my chest as I thought of a great idea for a practical joke to play on Emmett.

About nine months ago, Emmett developed a mysterious case of Crabs, and ever since then I took to tormenting him every chance I got.

I made my way down the aisle, barely noticing the man standing in front of the end-cap perusing the various boxes of Trojans and Lifestyles like he was buying a new car. Reaching around him to grab the last box of Magnums on the shelf, I felt his fingers brush against mine as he went to grab for the same box. Startled by the small jolt of electricity I felt run through my body from his touch, I looked up to get a better look at this stranger and was met with eyes the color of fresh cut grass. His eyes were so green they made me wish for the days of summer, freshly squeezed lemonade and sun-kissed skin. I let my eyes roam from his beautiful face down the rest of his body and was pleasantly surprised by what I saw.

_Well, hello Mr. Super-Cali-Fragil-Istic-Fuck Me-Ali Docious..._

I was blatantly eye-fucking him, but I couldn't help myself. To say that this man was sexy was putting it lightly, as he was the most delicious creature I had ever seen. He was very tall - about six foot two - and had a body that looked so well toned you could bounce quarters off of it. His skin was so smooth it would make a newborn baby jealous. His hair was standing up and sticking out in every direction and was the most amazing shade of red, brown and gold that it gave the impression of being the same shade as a copper penny. I had the strongest urge to just stand on the tips of my toes and reach up to run my fingers through it, and I wondered what it would be like to pull and tug on it it in the throws of passion. His face - oh, God, his face - I just wanted to sit naked on it. He had the most perfect nose and cheekbones and a jawline so strong and prominent it looked like it was carved from stone. And, for the life of me, I could not stop staring at his crotch. His, what seemed to be, perfectly sized, well endowed crotch hidden by pesky layers of denim and cotton.

Whether it was giddiness or excitement over what I thought was probably an impeccable peen, or the feeling of being overwhelmed by such a beautiful human being, I'll never know, but in that moment I let out, what seemed to be, a snicker. A god-damn, motherfucking snort, if you will.

_Shit._ _Stupid, dick-brained, horseshit, son of a whore bitch.__ Mr. __Sex-on-a-Stick probably thinks I'm laughing at him. Fuck me._

Feeling embarrassed, I knew I needed to act fast so, I did the only thing that came to mind. I insulted him.

"Really? I don't think you're going to need these," I said, grabbing the box of condoms out of his hand.

_Are you serious, Bella? Really? You just made reference to AND questioned this man's - this beautiful, perfect man's - cock size? Are you kidding me?_

Against my better judgement, I took a look at his face and saw a look of pure incredulity there.

_Ruh-oh, George._

"Excuse me?" he asked, rather abruptly. Well, I guess not too abruptly. I mean, I did just put into question the size of his manhood. "I don't think you have any idea as to what I may or may not need," he stated.

_Oh, really fool? So this is the game we are going to play. Well, ok then. Batter's up! Show me watchya got, big boy. But you are in for it, I'm just warning you._

"Look, I meant no offense. It's just...here...," I grabbed the box of regular fits, guessing from the bulge in his jeans that if he ever tried to put one of those on they would probably slap back against his dick like a rubber band, and handed them to him. "...take these. They're lubricated, too," I said, sounding as nonchalant as I could. I was really pushing my luck today.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what your lack of social skills deal is, but I presume it has something to do with the fact that whoever you're fucking isn't man enough to buy his own protection so you think you have a right to say whatever you want to people. But, the fact of the matter is that you don't have to feel sorry for yourself because you'll never get the chance to experience just how much I _do_ need the Magnums, honey."

He sounded so contrite, so smug and pompous, so..._hot_. God, I was so turned on. I could feel my seriously fucking expensive panties start to dampen and I wanted nothing more than to throw Mr. Ginormous down on the ground, rip his clothes off and fuck the shit out of him. It wasn't lost on me that we were standing in an aisle surrounded by prophylactics. But, I had to remain in control. This asshat wasn't going to wear me down no matter how sexy he was. And besides, he actually _was_ starting to piss me off. What was with the 'honey' bullshit? The last time a man called honey he was left with hairless balls and walked funny for a week.

"Honey? Did you really just call me fucking 'honey'? Who in the fuck do you think you are talking to me like that?" I spat, completely in control of my tone of voice even though on the inside I was torn between slapping him in that beautiful face of his or tracing the outline of his jaw with my tongue.

This guy was really something else. What? Just because he knew he was handsome and was proud of the fact that he had a big dick meant he could parade around talking to women like he had Happy Meals in his pants? _Please_. This guy needed to be brought down a peg or two because his oversized ego was starting to stink up the place. I was about to launch into another verbal attack when he spoke.

"You know, you might want to see a doctor about that," he said, craning his head toward my basket. I had no idea what the hell he was talking about when all of a sudden, it hit me. Looking down into my basket as if I were moving in slow motion, I saw the bright yellow box of Preparation H sitting there in plain sight.

_Dear God, if you have any sort of compassion for me at all, you will strike me dead with a bolt of lightening at this very moment._

And if I thought the situation couldn't get any worse, he continued. "I just mean...if they're really inflamed, you might want something prescription strength. It's nothing to be ashamed of."

_Does Duane Reade sell knives? Because right at this very moment I'd like to take a knife and plunge it into my chest. Seriously, God. If you don't want to throw down a bolt of lightening, can you just open up the ground and swallow me whole?_ _ Kthanxbai._

Wait. Hold the phone. What the fuck was I saying? I was Bella Swan and I didn't take shit from anyone, especially pricks like this guy and currently, this guy had me in such a blind fury I was seeing spots.

_Fucking spots! Mr. Dickwad had me so angry he was fucking up my vision. Gone were the thoughts of throwing him down and riding him like he was a mechanical bull at a rodeo bar, and in it's place was the thought of taking a douche nozzle and cramming it up his nostril._

I couldn't hold it in any longer, and in that moment I erupted in venomous anger.

"You are an unbelievable asshole with no boundaries, do you know that? Do you know how entirely inappropriate you are?" I was beyond furious. I could feel my face burning with anger and this guy had no idea what he had just unleashed. Hell hath no fury as far as Mr. Inappropriate was concerned.

His eyes grew wide and he stared at me in complete shock from my outburst, probably wondering if I had a mild case of tourrets.

"Me?" he shrieked, his voice getting increasingly louder and causing the heads of other patrons in the store to turn in our direction. "You decided you knew what size dick a complete stranger had. I think that is a bit off-taste, don't you?"

_He had a point there_.

Shit. Snap out of it Swan and get your head back in the game.

"It's for wrinkle prevention. Not that you would know anything about that with your bed-head and under-eye circles. Do you even fucking shower? Do you have a hygiene regimen? Do you? In all my life, never has anyone talked to me like you have." I was screaming by that point, very well aware that we were drawing an audience. In fact, I was pretty sure that the woman standing at the end of the aisle, who couldn't be any younger than ninety, was video recording us with her cell phone.

_Great. I'm sure Grams will have this all over YouTube in about six minutes..._

"I highly doubt that, sweetheart," he scoffed.

Are you kidding me with this guy? I couldn't tell if he was actually that big of a shithead or if he had a serious case of verbal diarrhea. It could go either way. Bottom line, if it looked like a duck and talked like a duck, it was probably a duck.

"Fucking, Christ! You are the most insolent person I have ever encountered. And you...I mean..." It occurred to me in that moment that I had no idea of the contents of his basket, so I decided to look down and have a gander. And what I saw made me as giddy as the prom queen on picture day. K-Y, Vogue, Good Housekeeping...Fresh scented tampons? Oh! Does Mr. Hot and Resistible play for the other team? "...look at what _you_ have in your basket!"

The Vogue and Good Housekeeping I could understand. I got it. He was into fashion and liked gardening. Everyone has their vices. I even understood the K-Y...all too well, if you know what I mean. But, I was completely stumped by the tampons. Were the K-Y and the tampons going to be used in tandem? If not, what was the use for just the tampons?

_Maybe I didn't need to grab the douche nozzle after all. I could just grab one of his tampons and shove it up his nostril._

Curiosity got the best of me and I picked up the two items. "Planning a thrilling night out, are we?" He looked pissed, and I couldn't help but tick off the mental win in my mind.

_See Mr. Rough and Tumble, you play with fire you get burned._

As if by some sort of divine intervention, the manager of the store showed up looking slightly worse for wear. I'm assuming fights in the family planning aisle didn't happen all that often, and I was kind of surprised that no one had come up to us sooner.

"Exc-u-u-u-se me, is everything alright here? Is there a problem?" If I wasn't so pissed off I'd probably want to give this man a hug and reassure him that everything was just fine. However, Mr. Not-So-Perfect-Stranger decided to take the situation into his own hands and answer for the both of us. _Couldn't he just shut that yapper of his?_ I swear, if he never opened his mouth to speak he'd be the perfect male specimen.

_They have to sell duct tape around here somewhere, no? _

"Yes, everything is fine. The lady and I we were just discussing something _large_. And wrinkles. Apparently she has been aging prematurely...tragic, really." He glared at me when he used the word 'lady' as if insinuating I was anything but, and then he smiled so brightly at the fact that he thought he made a funny that I had to roll my eyes.

_Oh, give me a break._

Chiming in and adding my two cents, I made sure to give him some serious stink eye as I said, "This gentleman here was just saying that he needed some soap to take the layer of trash and filth off his skin. And, a box of matches for his clothes." That's right, douchebag. Don't mess with me. "He also wanted to know if you have anymore Magnums in the back. He is studying to be a real man."

The poor manager was looking back and forth between us like he was watching an intense tennis match. I honestly felt really sorry for him and was concerned that his constant head volleying was going to cause him whiplash.

"I, uh, yes, I am sure we do. I'll be right back," he stammered, turning on his heels and walking away.

"You're lucky I am in a good mood, asshole. Your sorry ass would be in a heap of fucking trouble." I whisper-screamed as I pointed my finger at him to make sure he knew I meant serious fucking business.

"_This_ is you in a good mood?" he asked, clearly curious.

I narrowed my eyes at him, preparing to claw his eyes out when the manager returned.

"Here you go, sir. One box of...just, here." Wow. I've never seen anyone run away so quickly. It was like he was fleeing a crime scene and, ironically, he wasn't that far off. I looked back over at Mr. Goodbody and went in for the kill.

"Don't say I never did anything for you." I said, and then winked at him for shits and giggles. I turned and walked away, making sure I put just enough sway in my stride to ensure he was left staring at my ass.

_And what a fine ass it is, Swan. _

_*~*~*~*~*_

I was livid. I stormed out of the pharmacy and ran to my car in such a haze that I barely remembered paying for my items. I didn't even bother getting the things that Rose had asked for because if I ran into that asshole again, I couldn't be responsible for my actions. As it was, I was already ashamed of my behavior.

_Rose better keep up her end of the bargain for a shopping trip for some Louboutins because she seriously fucking owed me._

Pulling out onto the street, I felt embarrassed. I had had fights with people about many things in my lifetime. Condoms, cock size and hemorrhoid cream were never amongst them.

I always had trouble biting my tongue, and I never had a problem telling someone where they could shove it, but this man had stirred such a visceral reaction in me that I had completely flown off the handle. What made the entire situation worse was that there were more boxes of condoms in the back, which meant that trading insults with Mr. Well Endowed was all for naught.

_And insult he did._

I knew that I could hold my own in a verbal sparring match, but I had never met someone who could match wits with me. Rose and Emmett were up there, but even then it had taken them years to be on the same level with me as far as a 'war of words' went. But this guy? This guy was no holds bar and I could tell he was equally impressed and infuriated with my mad skills. A few more hits below the belt and I'm wasn't sure if he would have tried to make out with me or given me an atomic wedgie. Neither option sounded too appealing.

_Liar._

I should have stopped. I should have just walked away but I couldn't help myself. There was something about Mr. Magnum that kept egging me on and I kept going tit for tat with him, letting Bella-The-Uber-Bitch get carried away.

Upon reflection, I couldn't help but feel that this was a very small part of the reason I didn't date.Yes, I was focused on my career, but I also had no desire to weed through jerks like Mr. Panty Dropper. I had very little patience, and my time was better spent focusing on my clients and my work rather than trying to find someone suitable to shack up with. Sure, there were plenty of good-hearted men out there, Charlie was proof of that, but the majority of them were dicks, and Mr. So-Sure-of-Himself took the cake. I didn't care how good looking he was, he was pompous, arrogant, cocky and he made me want to punch something.

_And by something, I meant Mr. Beautiful's beautiful face._

But, besides the feelings of anger running through me, there was something else coursing through my veins as well.

_Need. Pure, unadulterated need._

It was this thought that had me so turned around that I wasn't sure which direction was up. Not only was I aware that I was going to have to change my panties immediately upon my arrival at home, but I was also pretty sure that I was going to have to spend some quality one-on-one time with my vibrator.

And I'm not just talking a few minutes here to get the job done. I'm talking the amount of time necessary for my clit to stop throbbing, my pussy to stop acting like a leaky faucet, and all thought of Mr. Good Housekeeping to vacate the premises.

_Good thing I always kept extra batteries in my apartment._

The streets of New York were surprisingly empty and I made it back to my apartment at the Platinum in no time. Pulling up to the valet, I grabbed my bags, got out of my car and walked towards the front entrance.

"Hey, Bella. How are you this lovely evening," I heard my doorman, Jake, say as he opened the main doors to the building for me.

_Well, 'lovely' certainly isn't how I'd describe it._

"I'm fine, Jake. Thanks for asking," I replied, just wanting to go upstairs to my apartment and forget this day ever happened.

"You don't look fine. Someone piss in your Cheerios this morning or something?"

_Everyone's a comedian today._

Trying not to lose my cool because I knew making "small talk" was part of his job specifications, I looked at Jake and gave him a slight smile. "Just a long day at the office," I said, hoping he would just leave it at that.

Jake was a good guy and extremely attractive. He was about as tall as Emmett and very well built. He was Native American, and his skin was perfectly and naturally tanned. He had a stunning, million dollar smile that could stop traffic and long, shiny, jet-black hair that he kept pulled back into a ponytail for work purposes. He was also one of the sweetest people I had ever met and he had a heart of gold. However, about a year ago, I came home drunk after one too many martini's with Rose at Stir, and stupidly invited him upstairs to my apartment after his shift for a marathon session between the sheets. I have regretted it ever since. The sex was okay, but Jake thought our one night together meant more than it did, and he took to following me around like a lost puppy whenever he saw me around the building. At first, I thought he would get the hint and see that I wasn't interested in having a relationship with him, but after six months of his unsuccessful advances and attempts to ask me out on a date, I had to sit him down and tell him that I only wanted to be his friend. He took it as well as he could, I guess, but I could see the disappointment in his face and I felt like a world class jerk for giving him the wrong idea. Jake deserved much better than what I could ever offer him and, in time, he would see that.

_However, right now I felt he deserved my stiletto heel in his sternum. _

It wasn't his fault I was on edge, but with his snarky comment about someone pissing in my Cheerios and his attempt at keeping me outside, I shot him a look that clearly said I wasn't in the mood. I was tired, starving, cranky, and I just wanted to go up to my apartment, kick off my shoes, change into comfy clothes and curl up on my couch with a nice glass of wine, some Thai food and a good book.

_And possibly masturbate...._

"Ok, Bella. You have a good night, now," Jake said, giving me a tip of his hat, and I was eternally grateful that he didn't continue to make an attempt at having a full-fledged conversation.

I walked into the lobby of my building, giving a quick wave to the concierge as I passed through and headed towards the elevators. Pressing the up button, I patiently waited for the elevator and stepped in when the doors opened, resting against the back wall and breathing a sigh of relief as I got closer to the confines and sanctity of my home.

I had searched high and low for the perfect apartment when BelRo took off and running. I spent months scouring the city, looking at high-end apartments, brownstones on the upper east side and loft after loft, but nothing had piqued my interest. It was by chance that I stumbled upon the Platinum and when I saw it, I had immediately fallen in love. It was everything I had been looking for.

The Platinum was a new development and all of the residences were chic and modern, with their clean lines and hardwood floors. I was lucky enough to grab one of the last apartments on the west side of the building, giving me the perfect view of the Hudson from the floor to ceiling windows that encased the front of my apartment. There were three bedrooms, which were all large in size and painted in soft muted whites, greens and yellows, giving the rooms a comfortable, relaxing feel. I had hired an interior decorator to come in and decorate the apartment using a contemporary design, wanting the apartment to reflect me and my personal style.

The kitchen, which was my favorite room in the whole apartment since I loved to cook, had spanish tile floors, granite countertops, dark, cherry wood cabinets, an island in the middle of the room and state-of-the-art stainless steel appliances.

The bathrooms were like having a spa in my very own home, with their huge steam showers that had three shower heads on the front and back wall so the water hit me from all angles and loosened the muscles in my body each time I stepped in.

The apartment was my haven.

I entered my apartment, kicked off my heels and threw down my bags. I walked into the kitchen and poured myself a glass of Cabernet Sauvignon, taking a sip and feeling my body warm and relax as the delicious taste of the wine worked its way through my system. I grabbed for the take-out menu to Yum Yum Bangkok and called in my delivery order before heading to my bedroom and changing into my favorite pair of Josie pajamas.

As I was slipping the top to my pajamas over my head, the landline in my apartment rang. I let out a frustrated sigh and rushed out of my bedroom towards the kitchen. I wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone tonight, but fearing it was one of my clients with an emergency, I didn't want it to go to voicemail.

"Hello," I snapped.

"Hi, sweetheart. Am I catching you at a bad time?" I heard the voice on the other end chirp.

Renee.

_I really needed to learn how to screen my calls because the world was out to get me today. _

I had no patience to deal with her after everything that had happened since leaving the office, but knowing Renee, there was no way I was getting away with anything less than a ten minute phone conversation.

"Hi, Mom. How are you? How are Dad and Jane?" I said, softening my voice in an effort to keep the conversation as superficial as possible and praying to any higher being that Renee wouldn't start lecturing me on my love life...or lack thereof.

"Oh, I'm fine honey. Jane's good, fast asleep right now, and your Dad is in the living room watching the game, as usual. But, how are you, dear? I feel like I haven't talked to you in forever. Anything new and exciting going on in your life?"

So much for avoiding an in depth conversation. Renee was nothing if not subtle, and by "new and exciting", I knew she meant "men". Just like with Rose, my mother and I had this conversation at least once a week.

Trying to hold her off as long as possible before she launched into her overly rehearsed speech, I said, "Mom, I just talked to you three days ago. Nothing has changed since then. Work's the same. Emmett just signed his contract with the Giants today. Other than that, nothing else is going on." I picked up my glass of wine from the counter and gave it a swirl, examining the tannins that stuck to the side of the glass. Taking a sip, I gently placed the glass back down on the counter.

I heard Renee let out the long, deep breath she must have been holding in anticipation of me saying that I had met someone.

_And here we go. Two minutes. That has to be a new record or something!_

"Bella, I just don't understand. You are a young, beautiful, successful, smart girl who's in the prime of her life. You should be out there meeting tons of nice, attractive, available men and sexing anything on two legs..."

"Mom," I breathed, exasperatedly, trying to stop her rant. "I really can't have this conversation right now. Between you and Rose and the guy at the pharmacy..."

_Fuck. Shit. God Dammit! Please don't pick up on it, please don't pick up on it, please don't pick up on it._

"Guy? What guy? Bella, are you not telling me something?" she asked, overly excited about the prospect of my having any sort of interaction with a member of the male species.

"Mom, please calm down. He was just someone I had an encounter with at Duane Reade. It was nothing. Trust me," I emphasized. I desperately needed her to hear the nonchalant tone of my voice. Give Renee an inch and she took a mile. If she thought I sounded the tiniest bit excited about the situation, which I wasn't by any stretch of the imagination, she would make a mountain out of a mole hill and be running to the closest banquet hall and putting a deposit down to hold the sixth of June for a wedding. The key with Renee was to sound as uncaring as possible, and hopefully she would just let it go.

Unfortunately, luck wasn't on my side tonight.

"Bella, you haven't made any sort of mention of a 'guy' to me, subconsciously or not, since 1996 so don't tell me it was nothing. Now, tell me what happened." I picked up my glass of wine and took another sip, inhaling deeply as the warm liquid trickled down my throat.

Although I really didn't want to recount the whole, stupid ordeal and tell Renee about what had happened at Duane Reade, I knew that not telling her would be like willingly subjecting myself to an Indian burn. She would twist and needle me until I screamed "Mercy" and begged for a reprieve. I decided to give in, sharing the bare minimum as far as details were concerned.

"Mom, seriously, it was nothing. We just both grabbed for something at the same time and got into a stupid argument over it." I walked over to the island in my kitchen and grabbed some grapes from the bowl I had placed there and sat down on one of the bar stools, figuring this was going to take a while.

"What did you both grab for? And what was the fight about?" she asked, growing increasingly more excited about the situation than was warranted.

Popping a grape into my mouth, I asked, "Does it matter, Mom?" I knew what her answer would be. With Renee it was always "yes". A clear, resounding, "yes".

"Of course it does, Bella." I heard Renee shuffling around the kitchen, probably making herself a cup of tea - her nightly ritual before she went to bed.

"Fine," I huffed, as I smacked my head against the counter, mentally cursing myself for letting Renee wear me down. "We grabbed for condoms and argued about the size of his penis."

_Silence._

Normally, I follow the old saying "silence is golden", but where Renee was concerned, silence was a sign of the apocalypse and cause for immediate concern.

"Mom, are you ok?" I asked, my voice trembling with fear.

"Bella, let me try and understand this..." Uh-oh! She sounded calm. Calm was never good. Renee and calm went together like Christmas trees and cheese sandwiches. I was about to run and grab my rosary beads and say a thousand Hail Marys when she continued.

"You go to the pharmacy to buy condoms for yourself?"

"No, for Emmett."

_Rookie mistake, Bella. Don't interrupt. Never interrupt. Interruptions bring on new questions._

"The condoms were for you and Emmett?" she squealed, reaching a pitch I'm pretty sure only dogs could hear. Poor Charlie was going to have to break out his shotgun to scare off the wolves that were probably assembling in the backyard.

"No, Mom," I replied, with a hint of agitation. "I was buying the condoms so I could play a practical joke on Emmett."

_More silence. Danger, Will Robinson!_

"Bella, this brings on a whole new set of issues. Only in your head does it make sense to use condoms for practical joke purposes and not for sexual activities. Was this mysterious pharmacy man attractive?"

_Attractive? You want to know if he was attractive, Renee? Mr. Bend-Me-Over was a sex god!_

"I suppose you could say that." I kept my voice surprisingly even, knowing that the key was to downplay the hotness of Mr. Chiseled Jaw.

"Ok, so you both reach for the box of condoms and then what? I fail to see how this turns into an argument about an attractive stranger's cock size." I shivered at her use of the word "cock" as the bell in my apartment rang, indicating the arrival of my dinner. I walked over to my door and pressed the call button to reach the concierge at the front desk.

"Mom, can you hold on a second? My dinner's here." I interrupted Renee's interrogation so I could tell Larry, my concierge, to allow the delivery man up to my apartment.

After a brief conversation with Larry, I returned my focus back to Renee.

"Sorry, mom," I said. "Listen, can you please not use the word "cock"? It makes me want to throw up and I haven't even eaten yet." Renee and I were a lot alike in that we said whatever was on our minds, but I had a little bit of an issue with her cavalier attitude towards using such words. It just wasn't right, but given Renee's profession as a sex therapist, the work "cock" was just as normal to her as the word "hamburger".

There was a knock on my door and I grabbed my wallet. Checking the peep hole just to be sure it was the delivery guy, I opened the door, paid him for my food and mouthed a silent "thank you" as I grabbed the bag from his hands, shut the door and walked back into the kitchen to set my food on the counter.

"Oh, grow up, Bella. Don't be such a prude. Now, stop stalling and spill it." I could hear the frustration in her voice, and I smiled wickedly. Ruffling Renee's feathers was too much fun, but she gave as good as she got and I knew she wasn't through with me.

"He reached for the Magnums," I said, shrugging my shoulders as I uttered the words that I knew were going to be the nail in my coffin.

_Silence. For the third time in less than twenty minutes. Houston, we have a problem._

"Bella, where the fuck did I go wrong with you? Let me give you one of life's important lessons. If you meet an attractive man who needs Magnum-sized condoms you get down on your knees and thank your lucky stars. You do not, I repeat, do not, question the size of his penis. My God, Bella."

Well, I certainly didn't expect _that_ reaction from her.

I couldn't help but laugh. I was starting to find the whole situation humorous, albeit highly embarrassing, but hearing Renee's reaction almost made the horrifying experience worth it. "Mom," I said, goading her. "I thought you wanted me to meet a nice boy and settle down? Now you want me to go around having random sex?"

"I never said go and have random sex with every man you meet, Bella," she grunted in between clenched teeth, her frustration with our conversation increasing with each new development of the story I revealed. "But, we never discussed the possibility of having random sex with a man who has a giant penis."

_Touché._

Ok, it was time to put an end to this conversation.Renee was aggravated and I was done discussing it.

"Mom, he had the personality of a pariah," I stated, firmly. "I actually wanted to slug him while we were in the store. Now, I don't want to be rude, but I'm tired and my dinner just arrived and is getting cold. Can I talk to you tomorrow or something?" My patience was wearing thin, but the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach told me Renee wasn't going to let me off the phone so easily.

"Sorry, Bella. We aren't done here." I felt like I was being scolded and at any second Renee was going to tell me to take a time out in the corner. "There is nothing wrong with being attracted to someone and wanting to hit them at the same time. That's how some of the best relationships start. Ever hear the expression "opposites attract"? Someone who can stir such a strong reaction in you is obviously special and, if you must know, the benefits of having angry sex are endless."

Here we go, sex therapist, Renee Swan to the rescue.

"I actually just went to a seminar which talked about this," she continued. "It helps to get out your aggressions. It doesn't have to be all sweet and loving all the time. Sometimes people just need a good, hard fucking. I think I'm going to discuss this in one of my next classes actually."

_And there went my appetite._

"Mom, can we not talk about your job?" I pleaded. Renee really enjoyed what she did for a living but it wasn't something I ever wanted to talk about. That didn't stop Renee, however. "I know you love what you do and the active adult community of Ringwood really appreciates you offering up your services at the Y, but the idea of you teaching people about how to have proper, angry sex, or sex at all, freaks me out still."

"Oh, Bella, lighten up. If I didn't actually give birth to you, I would swear you weren't mine. Sex is a natural and pleasurable part of life. Learn to embrace it, honey. Now, I know you're no virgin, but you can be a little frigid and that is a major turnoff for a guy. I mean, what's the sense in buying all of that expensive underwear if no one is going to see it?" I lifted my wine glass to my lips and drained the rest of its contents before grabbing the bottle to pour myself a bit more.

"You know, Mom, I would really like to know when you started thinking that we had the type or relationship where this conversation was okay and acceptable?" I was genuinely curious and I would do anything at that moment to steer the conversation in a different direction.

I heard her chuckling.

"Mom, I love you, but please, I am so tired. Can I please talk to you later?" I hoped that she would have pity on me just this once and hear the desperation in my voice.

Sighing loudly, she said, "Ok, Bella. I love you too, pumpkin. Call me soon and come visit. I know Jane really misses you."

"I will, Mom. Tell Jane I miss her too and give her and Dad a big hug and kiss for me." I really did miss them all to death and vowed to call and visit more often. They didn't live too far outside of the city and Jane was too special to me for me to miss out on so much of her young life.

"Will do, Bella. Goodnight."

"Night, Mom," I said as I pressed the "end" button on the phone and placed it back in the base to charge.

I stared at the bag of Thai on my counter and realized that I was emotionally spent from all of the day's fuckery.

Deciding to call it a night, I threw the Thai food in the refrigerator and walked over to my bags from Duane Reade to grab the Preparation H so I could complete my nighttime routine. I entered my room and went straight to the master bathroom. I flicked on the lights and stood in front of the double sink vanity. I turned on the faucet to the sink on the right and threw my hair up into a messy bun. As the water was warming up, I took a look at my reflection in the mirror and groaned when I noticed the dark circles under my eyes. I had been working so hard lately that I was neglecting some of the more important things...like sleep. Promising myself a full eight hours of rest tonight, I squeezed some face wash into my palm and began washing my face. I dried my face off, dabbed a little bit of the Prep-H around the corners of my eyes, brushed my teeth, turned off the lights to the bathroom and sauntered over to my bed. I climbed in, pulled the covers over me, relaxed against the down pillows and settled in to prepare myself to fall into a deep, peaceful sleep. But sleep never came. I tossed and turned on the bed for what seemed like hours, seeing a pair of intense, green eyes staring back at me everytime I shut my own.

_What was it about this asshole that had my mind reeling with thoughts of him?_

Realizing that there was only one thing that would get this guy out of my mind and put me to sleep, I sighed deeply and rolled to the far side of the bed. Opening the top drawer to my nightstand, I reached in and pulled out my vibrator. Turning it on its lowest speed, I brought it down to my pussy and rubbed it against my lower lips, allowing the moisture that had built up since the incident at the pharmacy to coat the outside. I moved the vibrator up and down slowly, intentionally bypassing my entrance and letting it rest on my clit for a few moments, the vibrations sending tiny shockwaves throughout my body.

I let out a low moan as I slowly moved my left hand up and over my body and imagined Mr. Green Eye's hands softly caressing me. I lightly skimmed my hand along my ribs while I continued the path up towards my breasts and teasingly circled my nipples, eventually grabbing one and rolling it between my index finger and thumb, pinching it roughly. I gasped at the sheer pleasure of it all.

With my right hand, I slowly pushed the vibrator into me and moaned. I imagined Mr. Good Body laying on top of me, his naked form slick with sweat as it moved against mine. I imagined him kissing and nibbling my neck, marking my skin as he claimed me as his. I could taste the sweetness of his skin as I pushed my vibrator further into me, it moving effortlessly through the thick liquid of my arousal. I shifted the tiniest bit so that the clitoral vibrator hit me at just the right angle and arched off the bed at the exhilarating sensation. I groaned again as images of this mystery man pressing his fingers roughly into my hips as he thrust erratically into me filtered through my mind. I adjusted the speed on the vibrator, setting it to its highest speed and felt my stomach tighten and coil with the beginning of my orgasm. I bit the inside of my cheek and whimpered as I moved the vibrator in and out of me faster as I imagined Mr. Devastantingly Handsome flipping me over so I was on all fours and pumping into me wildly as he grabbed a fistful of my hair and pulled back roughly, grunting as his skin slapped against my ass making the most delicious sound. I was quickly approaching my release as I set the vibrator to rotate and thought about the look of satisfaction and delight on his face as he came inside me, his cock twitching and throbbing as it released his seed into me. I screamed into my empty, dark room as the thought of me milking his cock sent me over the edge.

As I laid in bed and tried to catch my breath, I removed the vibrator from within me and set it back down on my nightstand, deciding to just clean it off in the morning because I didn't want to get up out of bed. I turned on my side, feeling completely relaxed and sated as I closed my eyes and fell into a dreamless sleep.

*~*~*~*

**Some housekeeping items, kids!**

**By now, you have probably heard about The Fandom Gives Back, but we would just like to remind you about it: Ninapolitan, Lolashoes & tby789 organized a site where we the people of the Twilight Fandom can help raise money for Alex's Lemonade Stand Foundation, which benefits the fight against childhood cancer. Starting November 15th, You can donate, spread the word, and/or bid on some of our favorite FF authors to write outtakes and one shots of some of your favorite stories auctions coming up. Link is on my profile or go to:** **www(dot)thefandomgivesback(dot)com**

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**:) Thanks for reading, as always. Now click that pretty little "review" button and leave me some love because I love to hear from you!**


	6. Chapter 5: Tear You Apart

**Th****is is a collaboration with the lovely and hysterical Jessica0306. Our storyboard was written on a napkin at a restaurant. Thanks to our beta, Niki (HEARocks), for agreeing to polish this thing up for us and make it prettified. Seriously, she is a grammar Yoda. Without her, we would be lost in a sea of mix-matched tenses. Also, thanks to Project Team Beta for all of their help. The characters belong to S. Meyer. The things we make them do are all us. Please don't copy, steal or try to pass off as your own, kthnx.**

*~*~*~*

**Chapter 5 – Tear You Apart**

_It's only just a crush, it'll go away_

_It's just like all the others, it'll go away_

_Or maybe this is danger and you just don't know_

_You pray it all away but it continues to grow_

_I want to hold you close_

_Skin pressed against me tight_

_Lie still, and close your eyes, girl_

_So lovely, it feels so right_

_I want to hold you close_

_Soft breasts, beating heart_

_As I whisper in your ear_

_I want to fucking tear you apart_

"**Tear You Apart" – She Wants Revenge**

**EPOV**

I finally swatted the pesky gnat I call "sister" out of my home. It took a lot of convincing on my part, but she finally conceded that, A - I did not have hemorrhoids and B - I was getting laid on a regular basis. She knew I was lying about getting laid. She knows me better than anyone. But, she also knew I didn't have it in me to go back and forth with her, so she granted me a reprieve. I may complain a lot about Alice, but one thing I can say for certain is that she has a tendency to know what people want, or need.

Truth be told, I was planning on putting the condoms to good use after my shift the next evening. After everything I went through to get them, they were going to serve a purpose. I was a man with a plan. There was this waitress - that sounded so sleazy; She worked in the diner I sometimes stopped at after my shifts and she would fill my cold bed perfectly for one night. She'd flirt shamelessly with me as she poured my coffee, flipping her long, curly red hair behind her. Sometimes I would order a piece of pie and after she served me, she licked any remaining fruit filling from her fingers in slow, calculated swirls of her tongue. If that didn't say "These fingers can be your dick," then I don't know what did. Now that I think about it, I wonder if that's some sort of health code violation.

I didn't have casual sex a lot and I never used the women I did have casual sex with. I gave them no indication that I was looking for anything more than a night of fun with no strings attached. And, I made sure they always got as much, if not more, out of the experience as I did. I am nothing if not generous. Sometimes, if I had a particularly good night with someone, we would lather, rinse, repeat for a couple of months until she ended up finding "the one", whatever the fuck that was. I had given up on the notion of true love and soul mates a long time ago. But, it had been quite a while since I brought a woman home, so it would be fun to see if I could still make panties drop with my eyes. Of course, I could.

I threw my Pad Thai into the microwave and made my way down the hall to my office to check my email. My home office was my favorite room in the house. It was the one room I didn't let Esme decorate because I knew I'd be spending most of my time there - I wanted it to be mine. It was very open and clean and spacious. I chose black cherry and gold wood for all of my furniture. I handpicked each plank of my Australian Jarrah wood flooring. I had white wainscoting and crown molding installed. The walls were a very neutral tan. The western wall had floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the park. I splurged on silk grommet drapes the color of brick, but they were always open. I liked the idea that at any time I could turn my head left and be looking out over my favorite place. The north wall, where my desk faced, was littered with pictures in all different types of frames...big, little, metal, wood, plastic, all different colors. I had family photos, photos of friends, newspaper clippings and anything else I found inspiring hanging on that wall.

*~*~*~*

_I remember the day I signed on the dotted line and closed on my place. I was having a breakdown of sorts. I was working harder than ever and I was getting everything squared away for the move and I had just started really helping out with the Cullen Foundation. I was managing my time poorly, burning the candle at both ends. I felt like I was getting away from the people I loved, my family and friends. I didn't want to be the type of guy that lost himself in work, and in return, lost what mattered most, too._

_It was three a.m. and I couldn't sleep. I was still in my studio apartment in Greenwich Village, tossing and turning on an air mattress. I had one million ideas, worries and schedules running through my mind. After staring at the ceiling for an hour, I got an idea. I took a cab to the brownstone I grew up in, the same one Esme and Carlisle have lived in since they were married thirty-five years previous. I tiptoed in and punched my code into the alarm system panel. I tried to be as quiet as possible as I stepped down the stairs to the basement that housed all of our family memories._

_I looked around and took in the sight of all the boxes before me. Then, I dug in. I pulled pictures of Alice and me as children in the Hamptons on summer vacation, Esme, Carlisle, Alice and me at a fundraiser in our black-tie best, and articles my mother kept of my achievements throughout the years. I found pictures of my best friend Garrett and me growing up, pictures from college and medical school. I took anything that grounded me and put a smile on my face. It was well after seven a.m. by the time I had four large stacks of mementos to litter my new place. After I found an empty box to carry my loot in, I turned to go back upstairs and noticed Esme sitting at the top with a coffee cup in her hand. _

_"I'm sorry, Mom. Did I wake you?" I made it to the top of the stairs and leaned in to give my mother a kiss on her cheek. I placed my box on the floor and offered her a hand to help her up. _

_"Gosh, no. I've been up for a while. I can't sleep past 5:30 anymore." She accepted my hand and followed me into the kitchen. I put my box on the counter and poured myself a cup of coffee._

_"I couldn't sleep. Sorry for just showing up here unannounced and uninvited. I just needed...reminding." I sat at the counter and laid my head down on the cool granite. _

_"Edward, this is your home. You're always welcome here, any time of the day or night." She sat next to me and ran her fingertips over my head like she did when I was little. I immediately reverted back to my childhood, when that was all it took to make my worries disappear. While her gesture was more than welcomed and appreciated, I feared it wouldn't work anymore. I was right. "What's on your mind, kiddo? Something is eating at you."_

_"I don't know, specifically. I guess it is a bunch of little things. I love what I do, Mom. I love it more than I ever thought possible. And I love my new place. I love helping with the foundation. I know the work we do is remarkable." I picked my head up and took a sip of my black coffee as I continued, "I'm just not sure who I am beyond Dr. Cullen anymore. I try to think back to college and weekend parties and hanging out with friends and how I felt in those moments and I can't. I can't remember those feelings, you know? It's a little scary."_

_"I understand, Edward. Actually, I understand all too well. Your father was the same way when I met him, just another way you remind me of him. This is going to sound like such a cop-out, mom thing to say, but it's the truth: You will figure it out. You will find a rhythm or a groove that works for you. It's all about balance, Edward. You just need to find yours." She smiled, signaling me that that was all the advice I would get or need. _

_"So, I wasn't aware I was hosting a rummage sale in my basement," she joked as she motioned towards my box._

_"Right, that," I smirked. "I needed some help finding my balance, apparently. I just needed some reminders. Don't worry, I am going to have copies of everything made and return the originals to you." I picked up my coffee and walked over to the sink, downing it all in just a few gulps so I could rinse my cup out. "I will talk to you soon, Mom. And, thanks for the help and the photos." _

_"Anytime, Edward. I love you."_

_That same day, I took the box to Duane Reade and spent more than a couple of hours getting copies of everything made. I also picked up a few frames while I was there. Then, I headed to Saks for more frames, then Macy's. I was all set with my eclectic mix of picture frames, so I headed to my new building because I already knew where I wanted to hang everything. I spent the remainder of the day and night perfecting that north wall._

_Esme was right. After several months, I found a groove. I learned to better manage my time and tackle tasks according to importance. I learned how to have fun, though I wouldn't really say I found balance, per se. The majority of my time was still dedicated to work. But, it was nice to relax and enjoy myself every now and then, too. Garrett was happy to have me back on the scene again. I made time to grab coffee or lunch with colleagues. And, anytime I needed some reassurance, I would sit in the office that I designed and look at those picture frames._

_*~*~*~*_

I was meticulous when it came to keeping my workspace organized. I wanted to know exactly where everything was so I didn't have to waste time searching. Also, there was something to be said about a neat area - it made for greater productivity. My books were categorized by content material, then alphabetized by title. I had my notes filed in three-ring binders, which were in chronological order by date on my credenza. I always cleared my desk and pushed my chair in when I was done working. The Post-It notes strewn all over my desktop and my chair sitting clear across the room were tell-tell signs that Alice had swept through that night, though.

_Wear Guccis with suit - NOT Bruno Maglis. _

_Call Mom and Dad's car service BEFORE Tuesday._

_We're going to be fashionably late - need to make them sweat!_

Fucking Alice was still buzzing around my head even after she left!

As I was peeling sticky pieces of bright colored paper off my desk, I noticed the out-of-place shimmery paper taped to my monitor. I peeled the envelope off and pulled the cards out. There were two sheets of foily, sparkly, girly paper with writing in an almost-illegible swirly font. It was the invitation for the event she was dragging me to, cocktail hour was to be at seven p.m. and dinner would be served at eight. I grabbed my iPhone from my pocket and entered a reminder to call the car service to pick us up at seven o'clock sharp the following Friday at Alice's. There was no real indication on the invite as to what this fete was for. There was just a simple, generic request:

_You are cordially invited to a dinner amongst friends_

_The Waldorf Astoria - New York City_

_on Friday, the twenty-eighth of August_

_two thousand and nine_

_Cocktails will be served at seven o'clock in the evening_

_Dinner will follow at eight o'clock_

The Waldorf Astoria - where the rich went to be seen and where the ostentatious went to entertain. _What did Alice get me into?_ I was all for parties and fundraisers and charity events, but I preferred some creativity. Anyone with a hefty bank account could book the Waldorf. The same two meals were served at every event - Chicken Bourguignonne or filet mignon. It was a requirement to use their house event coordinator, so all of the centerpieces never differed. The playlists were identical. Nothing was unique. Admittedly, the Waldorf was a beautiful New York landmark with top-notch service, but it was definitely not my cup of tea. I appreciated originality and outside-of-the-box thinking. Making a night of it in Central Park, Yankee Stadium, or the Metropolitan Museum of Art would have taken some real creative legwork_._ I did love dancing with beautiful women on the Great Hall balcony of The Met.

There was a smaller direction card, also, but no RSVP information. Either the host didn't mind paying extra for no-shows, or the host assumed all who were invited would show. Either way, it revealed their arrogance. I rolled my eyes and tucked the invitation neatly into my day-planner. I could only imagine what types of people Alice would have me hobnobbing with.

I remembered the last time I ended up as Alice's date. It had been five or six months prior when she had dragged me to some socialite, pseudo-hipster party in SoHo. She told me it was to network, but I think she was really there to flirt with some boy in thick, black glasses and skinny jeans. The studio apartment smelled of incense - I think it was supposed to be a fresh, woodland smell, but it really smelled like dirty work boots and gave me a headache. There were pieces of fabric all over the walls and hanging from the ceiling; some were adorned with crystals. Philosophy and art books were lazily placed throughout. They looked like they had never been touch, as they were in pristine condition. I lasted for thirty minutes in the thick of Pabst Blue Ribbon, talk of Nietzsche and Kant and overall superior social attitudes. I signaled to Alice that I was leaving, hoping she'd agree to come with me because that wasn't her scene at all. I was afraid she would get sucked into that bizarre underground world of self-entitlement and fake intelligence. She gladly left with me, though, never telling me exactly why we ended up there in the first place. On the way home, I asked how everything panned out. She answered with a simple, "It didn't."

I heard the timer go off on the microwave, so I turned my computer on, chucked Alice's notes in the trash can and walked back to the kitchen. I grabbed a plate and some chopsticks and pulled my food out. I made it a habit to never eat out of the container. I had good china, I made good use of it. Esme would have broken out into a cold sweat if she knew it was all just sitting and collecting dust. Mostly, it had been, except for one plate. The same plate I used whenever I found time for dinner. I grabbed a bottle of Fiji from my refrigerator and a place-mat from the drawer and went back to my office. I rarely ate in my office, but I really needed to catch up on my emails - work _and_ personal - so I made an exception.

By the time I was done reading and replying to all seventy-five non-spam emails, I had taken two bites of my food, which had since gone cold. It was 12:15 in the morning, so I was only looking at five hours of sleep, give or take. I turned my computer off and walked to the window. The city lights were always a comfort. I knew that no matter what happened in my life I could always count on the lights, unless there was a blackout, of course. I went back to my desk and picked up my uneaten food, water bottle and place-mat. I threw the food and chopsticks out in the kitchen garbage, the bottle into the recycling bin and returned the place-mat to its rightful spot in the drawer. I cleaned the plate off and put it back in the cabinet. I made sure to shut all the lights off and grabbed another bottle of water.

I made my way back down the hall to my bedroom. I placed the water on my nightstand next to a book I promised Alice I would read. That was over a year ago. Why she read a book about sparkling vampires that was intended for teenagers is beyond me, but she assured me it transcended the boundaries imposed upon us by age - her words, not mine. I brushed my teeth and rinsed with Listerine. I wanted to floss - I wanted to floss every night. I just never got around to it. I promised myself I would start the following night.

I was studying my ever-aging face in the mirror when I remembered my purchase from earlier. I lazily made my way to the front entry where I left my shopping bag and brought it back to my room. I threw the condoms in my nightstand and took the Preparation H with me to the bathroom. I closed and locked the door. I knew nobody was going to see me - it was foolish, really - but it was a habit, and human nature, to hide embarrassing practices.

I had a stare down with the tube for almost five whole minutes. I could have flossed in that time. I read the ingredients, uses, and warnings. I finally unscrewed the cap and removed the protective foil. I squeezed some out onto a Q-tip and smeared it under my right eye. _FUCK! _That shit did not smell appealing at all. I guessed the makers never thought about the fragrance since it's meant to go on your ass. I squeezed some more out and applied it under my left eye. I made sure to rub it in so it didn't get all over my pillowcase. I closed the tube back up and threw it into the top drawer of my vanity. As I examined myself again, I tried to look for any differences - less wrinkles, less under-eye garbage bags. _Jesus, Cullen, it isn't a miracle cure for wrinkles. What are you trying to prove with this, anyway, girly man?_ I rolled my eyes at my own reflection.

I walked into my closet – an over-sized dressing room, really - and stripped out of my clothes. I shoved my sneakers back into their spot on the shoe rack and tossed my clothes into the hamper noting it was starting to overflow. I had a housekeeper come twice a week to make sure everything was spotless, but I didn't let her clean my bedroom or do my laundry. She was a sweet, older woman named Irina, but the thought of someone washing my underwear still creeped me out. I didn't usually let my laundry pile up, but I was busier than I had thought. I made a mental note to do laundry after work the next day. Then I remembered – there would be sex. Laundry would have to wait.

I threw on a pair of sweats that I'd had since my undergrad days at NYU. I quite liked the fact that I still fit into them comfortably. I turned off the lights and crawled into bed, more tired than I realized. I flipped the television on, more out of habit than anything else. I checked to make sure my alarm clock was set, not that I needed it, and started to flip through the channels. I stopped on ESPN. The Giants had just signed a new running back for $50 million. Emmett McCarty....I had never heard of him. I wondered if he was really worth it, or if any athlete was. He must have had some great fucking representation to get a deal that lucrative. They showed some footage of him playing with the Dolphins and cut to his press conference. He thanked his parents, God, his "brilliant agent", blah blah. As he spoke, I felt like I recognized him from somewhere, but I couldn't place him. My eyes started fighting to stay open, so I gave in and flipped the TV off. I turned on my right side and struggled to fall into any type of unconscious state.

I woke up the next morning - 4:30 precisely - and felt like I had been in a fight with an angry ogre. I assumed my sleep was not what dreams were made of. I wondered if I truly slept at all the previous night. It was definitely a jogging day. I brushed my teeth and swiped my deodorant under my armpits. I didn't bother changing my sweat pants. I threw on an old Hanes tee, socks and my Nikes. I grabbed my iPod off the dresser and made my way to the kitchen. I grabbed the carton of orange juice and drank straight from it. I did that on the rare occasions I was too lazy to get a glass. I finished the carton and threw it in with the recyclables. I started toward my front door and took my keys from the console table in the entryway. I always took the stairs down to the street - no reason not to.

I jogged the block to the park and turned my music up. It was a gorgeous, August morning. The sun wasn't up yet, so it wasn't warm at all. It was actually a bit crisp for August. There was no humidity. Everything smelled clean and fresh. I sucked in a hard breathe to take it all in and wake myself up. The music shuffled to Jay-Z's "99 Problems" and I fell into a steady pace. I thought about everything I had to do that day that didn't have to do with my actual job: call my father, call the car service, get in touch with my buddy, Garrett, to go over our trip to Atlantic City the following weekend.

I caught a whiff of something sweet smelling - not candy or flowers - it might have been perfume, but it didn't smell manufactured. I looked up and noticed I had passed a woman jogging in the opposite direction. She had the most exquisite scent, which I realized was kind of a creepy thing to notice. It was a familiar scent, but I couldn't quite place it. I turned my head to see if I recognized her as she literally ran away. She had her long, brown hair high in a ponytail and it swayed back and forth with each of her steps. Her toned legs were accented with tight, stretchy-type pants and she had a phenomenal ass. She reminded me of someone..._shit, who am I thinking of? _I dreamt about her, this girl with the sweet smell, or I at least dreamt about the girl she reminded me of. She had the richest, brown hair that I wanted to run my fingers through. I dreamt about her recently -_ last night, perhaps? Is she the reason I felt like I was hit with a ton of bricks this morning? _Then, there she was, as if appearing out of nowhere in my mind...killer legs I wanted to wrap around my head as I tasted her, a venomous smile that I wanted to fuck off of her face, and a wink...

_Prep H girl._ I dreamt about her last night, no doubt about it. I quickened my pace, pounding my feet hard against the asphalt. How did I let her get into my head? I looked at the facts: she was arrogant, obnoxious, bitchy, rude and impossibly sexy. Even if I didn't find her character lacking, her smug arrogance was a turn off, in and of itself. I couldn't let this girl get the better of me. I remembered my dream as I jogged on. It started coming back in bits and pieces, and then it flooded my memory. We were at a party. I kept following her around corners and down hallways, but she was impossible to reach. I called out to her, using a voiceless name. She couldn't hear me, or she just pretended not to. The closer I got, the harder she was to see. I remember feeling like with each turn, it was harder to breathe, like there was something weighing my chest down. _Why would I dream this about her? Why the fuck would I chase her?_ She had gotten under my skin and not in a good way. I couldn't even focus on my run. I thought about what I would say to her if I ever saw her again. I would tell her she was _not_ a nice person, nor was it okay to talk to people the way she talked to me. I would call her a lonely, miserable shrew. Then, I thought about kissing her neck and pulling on her hair. I no longer thought about shutting her up, but rather making her scream. I had to suffer through those irrational thoughts of her as I ran on.

I decided I would have to cut my run short, because she had ruined even that for me. I ran back to my apartment with a determined step, thinking that if I ran hard enough or fast enough, I could sweat her out. It didn't work, though. I jogged up the stairs of my building to my fifteenth story unit and ran to my closet. I stripped my clothes off and walked steadily to my shower. I started the water and stepped in, letting the cold hit me, hoping it would rid me of all thoughts of her. I lathered my hair with shampoo, remembering how delicious she smelled standing in front of me. I could see her cleavage peeking out by accident, teasing me. The finger she used to point at me....I saw it inside her. I watched her pleasure herself. _Fuckitalltohell! _My dick had turned hard as a rock and it wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. There was really nothing else for me to do, so I thought about her some more, while I took my dick in my hand and pumped furiously.

After my shower, I felt dirty and ashamed, which was not like me at all. Every guy has a spank bank, right? I was an avid proponent of masturbation. But, the thought of _her_ invading my private thoughts made me mad. Then, I felt guilty for thinking of _her_ in such an intimate manner. Then, I remembered what a bitch _she _was and I was mad again. I quickly got dressed for work, ready to welcome anything that would take my mind off of _her_, and me, and _her_ and me, and what I thought about _her_ and me doing.

I got to work early after I stopped to pick up breakfast. As I did every morning, I tied my bike up at the employee bike rack behind the building and started eating my plain bagel with cream cheese as I walked to the employee locker room. I effectively avoided talking to any colleagues, pretending to be very interested in my bagel and the floor. I was not usually so evasive, but I was tired and cranky, and didn't want to deal with anyone until I absolutely needed to. When I got to the lockers, I sat on one of the benches and finished my sub-par breakfast. I cleared my head of everything and focused on the tile floor. After a few moments of relaxation, I grabbed my work clothes out of my backpack, threw it into my locker and rinsed with the mouthwash I kept there. I changed out of my jeans and tee-shirt into grey slacks and a black button-down, untucked. The higher-ups wanted to keep a mode of professionalism, but I tried to find ways to still be comfortable. I threw on my black Converse and one of my white lab coats, draping my stethoscope around my neck and grabbing my name tag. I always looked at my name tag before clasping it to my belt loop. I was proud of myself and not ashamed to admit it. I had wanted to be a doctor since my father stitched me up after a jungle-gym incident when I was six. It took blood, sweat and tears to get through medical school, but I had done it. I wore the largest, goofiest grin for my ID photo. Dr. Edward Cullen - that's me. Goofy motherfucker.

*~*~*~*

After a long morning of fevers and broken bones, I made my way to the locker room to grab one of my Red Bulls. Other doctors got on my case about "not setting a good example", but it was an energy drink, not crack. I heard my name being called over the loudspeaker, so I chugged my drink down and made my way to the nurses' station.

"There he is! How are you today, Edward?"

"Dad, it's great to see you. I was going to give you a call a little later on. How is everything?" I gave my father a big hug, and I heard all of the nurses' collective "awwwwws". All the nurses loved Carlisle Cullen. Actually, all females loved him.

He was in great shape, showed no shame in his salt-and-pepper hair and had gentle eyes, according to my mother. He was also fair and kind and truly listened when people spoke. Not to mention, he was the spearhead of one of the top foundations for research in pediatric medicine. The Cullen Foundation was founded by my grandfather, but my dad made it what it is today. He gave his time and energy to raise money, help researchers, speak at conventions, all the while practicing medicine, raising two children and making his marriage work.

"To what do I owe the honor?" I motioned for him to join me in the employee lounge. I was due for a break, so I decided his visit would be the perfect excuse to take advantage of it and eat something.

My father nodded and smiled towards the nurses. "Ladies, until next time." I swear I heard panties hit the floor. Carlisle was the number one stud doctor since he started working at Weill Cornell nearly thirty years prior. Since he retired, his fundraising and his visits with me still brought him here and kept him…popular.

He turned to me as we walked down the hall. "I haven't been to the hospital in a while, and you and I have some business to discuss. Your mother was telling me you helped out at the bakery again. She loves spending time with you."

"I know. The feeling is mutual. She is quite the boss," I said while looking over the food selection in the lounge. I grabbed some chicken noodle soup, two rolls and some butter. "Would you like something to eat, Dad?" I looked over at him and noticed his nose was scrunched up and he was looking at the food over the top of his glasses.

"No, thank you. It looks about as appetizing as your mother's-" He stopped himself before he could say anything he would later feel bad about. He made himself a cup of coffee, black, and sat at an empty table.

"So, Edward, Dr. Clearwater approached me a few weeks ago. As you know, we've been trying to set up a fundraiser for pediatric cancer research. Harry works very closely with Alex's Lemonade Stand Foundation. Perhaps you've heard of it?" My dad sipped his coffee just as he always does, blowing on it first to cool it down. I dipped some bread into my soup.

"Yes, of course I have heard of it. It's an amazing foundation. I think it would be great to do some work with them. What were you thinking?" I started drinking my soup as I was so used to rushing through meals. I noticed my father looking at me quizzically, studying me like I was some wild beast.

"Well, we would like to make it our next big project. We have to go...," he stopped mid sentence. "Edward, please, for my sake, try eating like a human being." I felt like a child being scolded, even though he let out a chuckle. "Anyway, we want to go all out. This is an amazing organization founded on the principles and hope of one amazing little girl. We're shooting for early next year - January, or February at the latest."

"That's only five months away, but I think we can do it. I will call Simply tomorrow. Actually, I can call tonight when I get home. This is great, Dad. It's a great thing to be raising money for. I'm excited to be a part of it," I said between taking chunks out of my remaining roll.

"I'm glad you're on board, son. The phone call can wait until tomorrow, though. You look like you could use some rest tonight," he said, trying not to be too pushy.

"I heard something like this from Mom yesterday. She told me to go out and date, in not so many words. If I didn't know any better, I would think you two were conspiring," I said with a raised eyebrow.

"It's fine, Dad. I will make the call tonight to get a head start. There's a lot of work to be done to pull this off in such a short time."

"Edward, if I may, I'd like to say something without you thinking I am nagging or overstepping." I held out my hand, signaling him to lay it on me. I valued my father's advice. He was a smart man and had led a great life. I could only wish to have half of what he had.

"You are a brilliant, kind, charming young man. You've made a great career for yourself. You have lovely friends. Your family loves you more than you can ever dream. You live in a beautiful home in the greatest city in the world. And, you give so much of yourself to and for others -your patients, your colleagues, your loved ones." He paused, contemplating his words carefully to best get his point across. "One day, though, you're going to have to give to and for yourself. Do you follow?" he asked rhetorically.

"I know you love what you do. And, your mother and I are so proud of you. Who else would volunteer _all _of his free time to helping his dear old mom at her bakery, or helping his dear old dad fundraising? Or, even escorting his little sister all over creation?"

"She told you about next week, huh?" I looked sheepishly at him.

"She bosses you around, Edward," my dad said with a laugh. "You need to learn to say 'no'." He looked down at his feet, contemplating something, then back up at me.

"Look, I just want you to be happy. I know you are right now, but one night you're going to crawl into bed after a long, hard day and the prospect of waking up to do it all again the next day won't be enough. Something's got to give. You need to get out more."

I stopped him right there. "I go out, Dad. Garrett and I are going to AC next weekend. And, I am going to that dinner with Alice. And, I have a date tonight." I came off a bit more frustrated than I had meant to.

"The cheap waitress at the corner diner doesn't count as a date, Edward!" He knew me too well. "And, going out once every month or so with friends doesn't count, either. I will not argue with you about this because you have to figure it out on your own. I just wanted you to know that you don't have to carry it all on your shoulders all the time. And, there is always room for...for more."

"For a girlfriend, you mean? I had a girlfriend, Dad, and she fucked me over - all that wasted time I could have used to do something more productive. Thank God I didn't love her, because that would have sucked." I looked at my father's face. He was surprised I swore at him and so was I. "Look, I am not opposed to dating. I quite like women," I said with a wink before continuing, "but just not right now. I love my job and the work we do. I just don't see where anything else could fit." I grabbed my garbage and walked over to the trash bin as Carlisle followed.

"I understand. I was there, once, too. But, I eventually found balance. I met your mother and she balanced me. You will, too, son. I haven't lost faith in you," he said as he patted my back. "I will let you get back to work. I'll call you early next week to go over details."

As he walked away, I stood in awe at the respect he garnered from everyone he passed. Everyone noticed him. They nodded their "hellos" towards him, or extended their hands. He was truly my idol and my inspiration, as a doctor and a man. I took his words to heart, knowing that one day I would settle down with someone. But, that time seemed light years away. I went back to the locker room to rinse with mouthwash quickly, and then I made my way back to the emergency room to finish the second half of my shift.

The rest of the day wore on slowly. I kept busy and stayed focused on work. Every now and then I would spy a couple embracing, leaning on each other for support, finding comfort in each other's arms. I thought back to the things Carlisle said. He made valid points. It was not like I didn't _want _someone to love, or to love me back. I just had other things I was focusing my energy on. I was making a name for myself in the medical field. I didn't need any sort of outside distraction, like Jessica had been. It just wasn't worth it. Someday, maybe, I would meet her - the girl I could picture forever with, but not any time soon.

At the end of my shift, I was lucky enough to not have any pending cases, so I showered quickly and made my way out back to grab my bike. It was a fairly easy day, relative to my line of work, at least. I was tired, but looking for a way to get rid of some pent up energy and anxiety.

I rode the few blocks to the diner I frequented as I strategized. I started to tie my bike up as Vicky, the waitress, caught my eye through the window. There was a male patron sitting at the counter. All I saw was the back of him, but he looked young and fit. He was motioning erratically with his hands as Vicky threw her head back and laughed, her red curls bouncing on her shoulders. I noticed how stiff and dry her hair looked. Her dark eye makeup was noticeable, even at this distance. Her lips were painted bright red and looked scary, not inviting like...._shit._ Not inviting like _her_ lips.

I watched as Vicky cut her customer a piece of pie. I saw her run her finger over her lips deliberately, licking the chocolate icing off slowly as she touched the fingertips of her other hand lightly to the man's forearm. It would have been easy. I could have had Vicky with no questions asked. She wouldn't want me to be her boyfriend. She probably wouldn't even ask for my phone number. It would be one night, one hour maybe, of pleasure for us both - nothing more. Maybe we would do it again sometime, maybe not. But, she wouldn't give me a second thought when she took her other customers home. And I wouldn't think of her when I met someone else to share my bed.

The entire time I stood outside that diner and watched the exchange, as well as watching the other people in booths, eating and laughing and arguing, my mind went back to _her_. I remembered her face as if she were standing in front of me. I remembered her pouty, natural lips and soft, shiny hair. Her brown eyes flamed with anger and her ears flushed red when she told me, in more or less words, that I had a small penis. Her fingernails were perfectly manicured, I noticed, when she pointed her finger at me. Her chest heaved as she grew irritated, accentuating a little beauty mark over her left breast.

I had to shake my head to get her out. How was it I could remember all those little details about that woman after one chance encounter? I met her once and was immediately turned off, no matter how gorgeous she may have appeared on the outside. Yet, there I stood, watching Vicky, who I'd sat in front of countless times, and all I could see was her rough hair and unpleasant makeup. I paused for just a moment before deciding I wouldn't be having any pie that night.

*~*~*~*

The following week went by quicker than I expected, but I was able to cross a number of tasks off of my growing list. I got in touch with the event planners and we started discussing ideas for the ALSF fundraiser. Garrett and I finalized our plans for Atlantic City. He was going to pick me up late Friday night, after Alice's dinner, and we would drive down to Harrah's. I reserved the car service for Friday, too. I didn't do much else except work and go over the notes I already had on pediatric cancer from past research.

Friday came and I decided to relax all day before it was time to get ready. I called Esme and explained I was going to take the day to myself, so I wouldn't be at the bakery. She shrilled so loud I might have lost some hearing in my right ear. She was more than happy to hear of my plans to do....nothing. I rode my bike, leisurely, around Central Park. I bought a few hot dog rolls off of a street vendor and fed the ducks, even though the sign told me not to. I rested for a bit as I people-watched. There were lovers and enemies and parents and children. People laughed and kissed and ate and read. People from all walks of life passed me and I gladly took them all in.

On my way home, I stopped for lunch at the Carlyle Restaurant. They forgave my appearance because of my father's long-standing relationship with them. It was beyond words to sit down and enjoy a meal without rushing or having to make small talk or business talk. When I was done eating, it was still early, so I decided to go to the Whitney and see what new exhibits they had. I was not an art aficionado by any stretch of the imagination, but I had a definite respect for it. It would have been a shame to live so close to such a famed museum and never set foot inside.

By the time I made it through my front door, it was five o'clock. I glanced down toward my office door, knowing that if I sat at that computer I would lose track of time and my sister would never speak to me again, or just murder me. I started the shower instead, and checked out my face in the mirror as it warmed up. I had been using the Preparation H nightly since getting it, and it seemed to be working a little bit. I didn't appear so tired and rough looking, unless my sight was playing tricks on me. _At least something good came out of meeting the she-devil last week_.

That had been the first time I thought of _her _since standing outside of the diner the week before. I tried to shake her off quickly, knowing that if I let her, she'd invade my thoughts again. Her face was fading from my mind a bit. I could clearly remember her eyes and lips, but that was it as far as detail. The rest was fuzzy, except her scent. That was something I didn't think I would ever forget. Research has proven that scent is the strongest sense tied to memory, and I found that to be true. Burnt cookies took me back to Christmases growing up. Fresh cut grass took me back to vacations in the Hamptons. Formaldehyde took me back to medical school. And her indescribable scent took me back to Duane Reade.

I stripped down and got into the shower, scrubbing so hard I almost took skin off. I felt that if I scrubbed hard enough, I could get her out from under my skin. The harder I washed myself, the more I thought about her and the first and last time I jerked off to thoughts of her, and I was done for. I internally rolled my eyes at myself as I grabbed my body lotion and squirted some into my hand. I started running my hand up and down my throbbing dick. I was so hard it almost hurt. If I couldn't get her out of my head, I was going to use thoughts of her to my advantage.

As I continued to rub a little harder and faster, I leaned forward resting my left arm against the shower wall. I imagined running into her at a restaurant as she glared at me, an evil grin playing on her lips. She would get up and walk away from her table, inviting me with her eyes to join her. As I followed her perfect ass into the women's room, she would pull me into a stall and push me up against the wall. Our mouths would hover over one another's, never speaking a word. She would lean in first, angrily, her lips finally meeting mine. Our tongues would twirl in each other's mouths as she let out a little moan that would make my dick twitch.

I kept stroking my dick as I bit my bottom lip hard, imagining her lifting up her too-short-to-begin-with dress as I unzipped my pants. She would wrap her perfect, little legs around my waist and hoist herself up, grabbing the top of the stall wall. As she lowered herself onto my dick, she'd let out the sexiest noise I ever heard, whimpering in my ear. I'd hold her ass in my arms, bouncing her up and down as she nibbled at my ear and neck. I was so close to coming that I pumped faster as I let out a low growl. I thought about her screaming as she came all over my dick as I gave her one, last final push inside.

I came hard, all over the shower wall, as I pictured her hopping off of me, lowering her dress and walking away without a word. I stood in the shower, leaning against the wall, and shook my head. I was fucked. I rinsed one last time and made sure to clean off the shower wall before turning the water off. I wrapped a towel around my waist and proceeded with my "going out ritual". It took more work than you would think to look as un-put-together as I looked when I went out.

After brushing, flossing and rinsing, I shaved and moisturized my face with Kiehl's Face Cream for Men. I ran very expensive gel from France through my hair and mussed it up. My hair had a mind of its own and very few products could get it to look somewhat styled and ruly. I swiped with deodorant. I spritzed the tiniest bit of Clive Christian No. 1 on my hands and ran them over my neck and down my chest. I did one final check and walked down to my closet where my classic, black Dolce and Gabbana suit hung. I pulled a pair of black Calvin Klein briefs on, along with plain black socks. I grabbed one of my white button downs, tailored specifically for me, and got dressed. I opted for no tie, because how formal could this "dinner amongst friends" really be? And, just to piss Alice off, I wore my Bruno Maglis.

By the time I finished, it was six-thirty and I was, dare I say it, kind of looking forward to the night. I was all dressed up, I was hungry and I could definitely use a drink. I was going to Atlantic City with my best friend later. It was a gorgeous New York City night. I did the once over in my floor length mirror, grabbed my wallet and phone and turned off the lights. I grabbed my keys as I left, whistling some stupid song I couldn't name.

The car arrived promptly at seven and we made the trek to midtown to pick Alice up. She was ready, as always. Punctuality meant a lot to Alice. She looked stunning in a black cocktail dress and shoes that looked more like art.

"Look at you! You look like a real girl, Alice." I hugged gently as to not mess up her hair or makeup. I held the car door open for her as she got in, gracefully.

"Shut it, Eddie." She quirked her eyebrow at me and I stuck my tongue out at her.

"I'll be good; I promise. So, what is this dinner for? You never told me."

She sighed as she looked at my feet. "You wore those on purpose, jerk. Anyway, The BelRo agency is throwing the dinner. I might sign with them, Edward. This is like, _huge_. They're amazing. And, the owners are both women."

I knew not to push anymore, because she was wringing her hands, a tell-tale sign that she was more than a little nervous. This sounded like just what she needed, though. She was pushed around by men in a man's game for far too long, but she was better than all of them - the agents, the managers, the competition.

We made small talk for the rest of the short ride and Alice practically lunged out of the car when we arrived. I told the driver not to go too far, as I wasn't quite sure how long we would be. I walked in behind Alice, always holding the door for her. As we made it through the grand lobby, my phone rang, irritating Alice to no end.

"It's work, I have to answer," I whispered in a pleading tone.

"Fine. Just, fine. We're in the rotunda," she said as she stalked off.

I thought it was odd that we would be in the rotunda. That is usually a gathering place for people to mingle. I answered my phone and answered some questions about an admitted patient for one of my colleagues. I was off the phone and had it silenced in five minutes flat. I made my way down the corridor to the rotunda. I was taken aback because it looked beautiful, transformed. There were yellow and white flowers on an intimate table for about fifteen or twenty people. There were hints of gray in the chair covers and tablecloth. There was a harpist in the corner playing soft, muted music. The lights were dimmed and candlelight danced around the room. I was very impressed, and I did not impress easily.

As I walked through the silk curtain entryway, taking in the room, I literally bumped into someone – walked right into another human being.

"Please, excuse me. I'm sorry." I felt like an asshole for not paying attention because I was looking at flowers.

"No worries, man. I just...hey, do I know you?"

As I got my bearings, I finally looked up and it was like I was looking at a solid, human wall. I backed up, recognizing the man in front of me, but I didn't know where from. He was huge, though, and I was glad I didn't bump into him in an ally.

"No, I don't think so. I'm not sure," I said as I stared at him, trying to place him from somewhere. I did this at charity and work functions. I scanned my brain between foundations, family, work, everywhere I would have come in contact with someone. Then, I remembered. I knew exactly where I knew him from.

"I'm Emmett McCarty. I could swear I know you. It's weird." He stared at me trying hard to remember while not being too noticeable.

"You certainly are. You just signed with the Giants. Congratulations," I said dryly.

"I did, yeah, thanks. Are you in the business?"

"No, I'm a doctor. But, I do believe I met you when I came home to find my girlfriend on top of you....naked," I stated matter-of-factly.

"Edward. Of course. Damn Jessica Stanley....wow. Look, man, I had no idea she had a boyfriend. That's not how I roll....at all." I believed him, just like I had the day I found them. What happened was never his fault.

"I know, Emmett. Truth be told, you did me a favor. So, thank you."

"Anytime, bro, anytime. Maybe I can hook you up with some tickets or something, if you like the Giants, that is."

"Yeah, that would be great. Thank you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go find my sister," I said politely as I scanned the room. The words had barely left my mouth when I spotted her. Even with her tiny frame, she was easy to pick out of a crowd because she was like a firecracker. She always had everyone's attention when she spoke. Plus, she had the loudest, most obnoxious laugh that sounded like a cross between a mating pig and a member of the Lollipop Guild.

She was talking to some tall guy with curly, blond hair. _Another athlete, of course. How could I forget where I was?_ _Where the ostentatious went to entertain_. He was laughing loudly at something Alice had said when she spotted me and waved frantically. She placed her hand on his arm, probably telling him she'd be right back. I noticed he placed his hand on top of hers and leaned in to whisper something to her. She looked down and blushed. Alice, as a rule, doesn't blush. I tried to pretend I wasn't staring when she made her way over to me.

"Come on, Edward. There's someone I would like you to meet," she commanded as she pulled at my arm like a five year old.

"Who was that, Alice?"

"Who was that? Really? That's Jasper Hale. He is a Yankee, Edward. A New York motherfucking Yankee. Jeez."

"Sorry, Alice. Shit. Bite my head off, why don't you," I whispered as we approached the very nice looking back of a brunette. I inhaled as Alice fidgeted impatiently, waiting for the woman to finish her conversation. I couldn't believe what was happening at that moment, as my head was spinning, intoxicated by the scent that invaded me. _There is no way...it couldn't be..._

The brunette turned around, her scent wafting over me, and Alice beamed at us both. My stomach fell and I could see the familiar fire in the woman's eyes. I thought of an exit strategy: a work emergency, dysentery, I left the coffee pot on. I saw her nostrils flare as she was about to say something, but she noticed Alice putting her arm around me and placing her hand lightly on my back, urging me forward.

"Edward," she said looking up at me before continuing, "this is Isabella Swan." She shifted her attention. "Bella, this is my brother, Dr. Edward Cullen."

I had thought the run-in with Emmett McCarty had been awkward, but it had nothing on my run-in with Isabella Swan. As I looked at the furious, infuriating woman standing before me, trying to keep her cool, all I could think about was jerking off to the thought of her in my shower earlier, and how at that moment all I wanted was for my fantasy to become reality, because she was more beautiful than I could have possibly remembered.

**I can't wait to see what happens next! These two are fierce. **

**First things first, The Fandom Gives Back raised over $87,000 (yes, 8-7-0-0-0) for Alex's Lemonade Stand Foundation. That is mind-blowing, and we should all pat ourselves on our backs and treat ourselves to some Rob porn. I believe Nina, Lola and TBY are planning on doing another fundraiser before Eclipse comes out, so stay tuned for that. **

**Next, all the places we mention in NYC are real (except for BelRo and Betsy's Baked Bests). You can visit all these neat spots. We are fortunate enough to live less than 30 minutes from NYC, so we can see the pretty all the time. It's a truly magical place. Maybe we will take you on a tour if you're ever in the area and buy us chocolate.**

**Third, we will be posting links for random stuff like Edward's bicycle and Bella's pretty outfits soon, in case any of you care. **

**I think that is all for now. I just want to thank Jessica because she is the bees knees and always supportive and encouraging in everything. She is hilarious and is truly a genius and I am so lucky to be writing with her!**

**We love all of your reviews – keep them coming. **


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